Undecided, For Now
by Mellybean23
Summary: AU- Katniss and Peeta died the previous year. Gale and Madge are selected for the 3rd Quarter Quell. Gale is determined to come out alive. Madge knows she has no chance of winning. Can either find a way to win, or is it already a lost cause? Gale/Madge, mentions of Katniss/Peeta and Katniss/Gale.
1. Chapter 1

**I love Gale/Madge. I love that pairing so much that I did the unthinkable and decided to write a story about them where they fall in love and all of that other predictable jazz. I hope that you all enjoy despite how we all know this is going to turn out (or do we?).**

**Warnings- AU (majorly), maybe a bit OOC (I'll try my best), Violence (did you read the books?), and some light romance (OMG! He touched **_**my**_** hand and **_**I**_** touched my face so it's like **_**he**_** touched **_**my**_** face!)**

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><p><strong>Introduction<strong>

Losing your best- and only- friend to the games was not fun at all. In fact, it hurt Madge so much that she began to fear that she would turn out like her mother. It wasn't even about Katniss- no, it was about the horrible cruelty of it all. When Clove killed her at the Feast, she had barely been able to stop crying that evening. When Peeta woke up to find that Katniss was nowhere in sight and found that all of his hope was gone she had rushed to her ancient piggy bank in vain to see if there was any way she could afford to send him his medicine. When Cato held Clove as she died after Thresh had hit her, her heart shattered because even people who could kill without a second glance could love too.

She stood there, on the stage set up for the Victory Tour, as Thresh mounted the steps. The tribute that was too good to join the Careers. The tribute that could only sigh as the Mutts slowly killed Cato and Ava, the red haired girl from 5. The tribute that held back tears of shock when he learned that poor little Rue had been killed. Madge decided that Thresh winning instead of Katniss or Peeta wasn't the worst possible thing. At least it wasn't Marvel, the boy from District 1, who had killed Rue. It wasn't too horrible when she had to look into his eyes and shake his hand. The pain and sorrow that any decent human being would display was there. And it looked genuine.

Haymitch, being the drunk that he was, staggered, almost fell, and then threw up on Thresh, Chaff, and Seeder's feet. Seeder sighed, Thresh looked torn between laughter, pity, and disgust, and Chaff gave his old friend a large pat on the back as he laughed about how some people just couldn't hold their liquor.

The rest of the evening was a blur. All she remembered was that both Katniss and Peeta's families were in attendance as well as the Hawthornes. They were probably still expected to continue playing up the charade of Katniss's cousins. Madge looked up and across the table, over her steaming bowl of soup to come into direct contact with one of Gale's famous glares. She didn't kill Katniss. It wasn't her fault that Katniss decided to fall in love with Peeta. But Madge didn't say any of this. Instead, she shamefully averted her eyes until they rested on her bowl of thick, red soup. The color of blood.

He was back the next morning with a bag full of strawberries. She had three old sweaters, a pair of black shoes, and two dresses that she had worn when she was about five in her arms. She shoved them at him as quickly as she could and closed the door before he could give them back. About a month afterwards, he'd brought a little girl with him who couldn't stop thanking her because she was sick of wearing boy's clothes. That little girl now stood about ten feet away on the other side of the ropes. It was reaping day. And everyone ages sixteen through twenty was inside of the ropes.

Not even the strongest could hope to defy the Capitol.

The third Quarter Quell was upon them.

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><p><strong>You know what comes now… a desperate plea for a review. <strong>

**So please review! It's much appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**The official chapter one! Yeah! We are on our way.**

**I would like to thank everyone so much for their lovely reviews! It's really what makes this all worthwhile!**

**Tell me if you think I got Gale right. I could never quite figure out if he was angry or just overly serious, so this might seem a little OOC to some of you guys. I apologize in advance. I think I went for a combination of the two, but I'm not sure.**

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><p><strong>Unfair<strong>

Everyone says "Life isn't fair", but few truly understand the meaning of it. Growing up in the Seam wasn't fair, losing my closest friend to the Hunger Games wasn't fair, having to work all day in the darkness of the mines wasn't fair, but this… this was beyond unfair. I had stood through seven reapings, starting when I was just twelve. Last year was supposed to be my last one. I was supposed to be safe, take care of my family, and maybe find a girl to settle down with. I wasn't supposed to be standing here with the other nineteen year olds waiting for one of us to be sent to our deaths. We'd all thought that we were safe. But no one is ever safe from the Capitol.

"Hello, District 12, and happy Hunger Games to all!" Effie Trinket said, as she paraded onto the stage wearing a brightly colored pink wig and he classic green suit. "This year is the third Quarter Quell which means that as a special treat all of you nineteen and twenty year olds get another shot at winning the Hunger Games! I'm sure you're all _dying_ to give it a shot seeing how close last year's tributes came to the prize!"

"Dying" is, for once, the appropriate choice of words. At least one, but more likely two, of us will be dying in a few weeks' time. We all listen to Mayor Undersee drone on and on about the capitol and the Hunger Games and the Dark Days and the history of the Quarter Quell when suddenly Haymitch gives a loud burp, gets up from his chair, staggers around the stage a bit muttering under his breath, then looks directly at the camera and throws up. He swears loudly, flipping the camera, the Capitol, and the rest of Panem the bird, as Mayor Undersee and Effie exchange a look. Mayor Undersee helps Haymitch back to his seat as a slightly frazzled Effie smiles and steps forwards towards the large glass ball containing the names of every girl in District 12 between the ages of sixteen and twenty.

"Well, ladies first, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" she grins widely, starch white teeth glinting scarily in the steamy sunlight.

I tug at the collar of my shirt. It's too hot and humid. Of course the sun would come out today of all days instead of letting the clouds drizzle on and on like they usually do in the late spring. But there's not a cloud in the sky. How appropriate for the day that two of us will be sentenced to death.

Effie's got her hand around a slip of paper now. The air thickens with anticipation. It's being opened and Effie starts to smile as she reads the name printed on it.

"Margaret Undersee!" Effie reads happily.

The Mayor's face goes white. A hush falls over the crowd. My fists tighten, my eyes get a little wide, and suddenly I feel cold and clammy despite the heat. Even Haymitch looks mildly interested in this new and unexpected development.

Madge steps out of the seventeen year olds' section and begins to makes her way through the shocked crowd up to the steps. She nearly trips as she makes her slow and shaky ascent. The skin beneath her freckles looks green and her eyes are as massive as those of the crowds. She wasn't supposed to be drawn. No one, not even the craziest of the gambling men in the back of the crowd would have put their money on her. Not in a million years. She'd never taken tesserae before and she was the _Mayor's daughter_. Everyone thought of them as immune to and safe from the clutches of the Capitol.

I expect her to cry at the absurdity of it all, but instead she stands there bravely as Effie asks hopefully for volunteers and no one takes her up on the offer. Only when Haymitch drunkenly stumbles from his seat, holds her at an arm's length, and begins asking why some girl named Maysilee has been drawn twice, does she look even the least bit frightened and confused.

Haymitch is escorted back to his seat for a second time; however this time it is done by a large, unfamiliar looking Peacekeeper seeing as Mayor Undersee looks as if he is incapable of breathing. No one can blame him though. His only daughter has been sentenced to death and Haymitch seems to think that she's some other long dead tribute.

"Well, hasn't this been quite the exciting day?" Effie Trinket gasps as Haymitch sit down, still staring at Madge with a confused expression. "What with our female tribute being not only the Mayor's daughter but also the relative of a former tribute! This day just keeps getting more and more exciting!"

The crowd remains silent. Most are sympathizing with the Mayor, though some probably feel as though he deserves it. I can't quite decide how I feel. No one deserves this, but it was about time someone showed Madge Undersee that life wasn't fair. Right? But all I could think about was how Posy was wearing Madge's old dress. I'd never told my mother how I'd managed to get the clothes, but Posy had pestered me enough that I told a half-lie and said that I traded some strawberries with Madge for them. I would never admit that I'd gotten them for free.

"It's time for our young men, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" snaps me out of my silent mental battle. Effie's hand is fishing around and all I can do is cross my fingers and hope for what little that I have and for all that I need to give to my family that it isn't-

"Gale Hawthorne!"

I froze. My mind went blank. I could see everyone around me staring intently and hear the silence of the crowd. I looked at the stage a saw Madge and he blue, flowing dress. There was a matching ribbon in her hair. I looked at Effie, who was peering through the crowd in search of the male tribute. Anderson Mellark, the boy next to me, gave my shoulders a shove and suddenly I was back. I walked carefully onto the stage as Effie grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face the crowd. I saw my mother crying as Mrs. Everdeen tried to comfort her. Posy looked at me with curiosity. She didn't understand what was going on. I had to look away before I cried.

"… Our two tributes from District Twelve: Gale Hawthorne and Margaret Undersee!" Effie calls excitedly.

Mayor Undersee steps forward to read the Treaty of Treason. His eyes are puffy and red. His voice shakes and eventually cracks. He can't continue. All he can do is look desperately at Madge and all we, the citizens of District 12 can do, is hope that he doesn't say or do anything stupid. He might be a pawn of the Capitol's, but he was a kind hearted and hard working pawn, at least, and he's always been quite popular with most of the citizens of 12, even those in the Seam and a few of the nicer Peacekeepers.

In what could possibly be the most compassionate act ever performed by a Peacekeeper, Darius mounts the stage and finishes up the reading of the Treaty of Treason. He turns around, his eyes full of sorrow and motions for us to shake hands. I can't tell if it's because he'll be missing me or what I manage to catch on my Sundays off.

I turn and my large, calloused hand envelopes her dainty, soft one. The most work that this hand has ever done is playing a piano. Mine have hunted and fought and worked in the mines. They've skinned rabbits and held Posy. I take a chance and look up. Grey eyes meet blue. Her eyes are a little puffy and red around the edges and the depths are too kind. I can only hope mine look tough and determined.

The anthem is playing and soon I find myself inside of the Justice Building sitting on a soft couch made of some odd material. I think that one of the dresses Madge gave to Posy was made of this. And that's when it hits me. Posy. Vick. Rory. _Mom_.

I may never see them again.

The door opens and it's them.

"Oh Gale," my mother whimpers and I rush into her embrace.

"Mom," I croak out as we hold each other. I feel like I'm six again and have skinned my knee while playing out in the street. All I want is to just hold onto her forever. I don't want to go. But I also don't want to look weak. So, I swallow back my tears as I hug my family good bye for what will most likely be the last time.

"You remember what I taught you about hunting, right?" I ask Rory, getting down to look him in the eye.

"Your bows and arrows are in the hollow log just past the beech tree with the crooked branch," he says confidently, but I can detect the waver in his voice. He's just as scared as I am if not more so. I remember how I felt when Katniss left and I begin to understand that the ones who really lose are the families.

"Rory…" I begin to say, but a Peacekeeper pokes his head in and shuffles my family out.

The next person to enter is none other than Mayor Undersee. I don't even know what to say. Firstly because the only time I'd ever been this close to him before was when he gave me the medal after my father died in the mines all those years ago. Second is the fact that I expected him to be with Madge, not someone who might have to kill her.

"You bring the strawberries, don't you? You and that Everdeen girl from last year," he says, looking at me with an expression somewhere between grief and pity. I almost feel angry when I realize that he feels the pity for himself and not for me. "I saw you a few times. And that little girl, your sister, is wearing one of Madge's old dresses."

I'm unsure of what to say, so I settle for a nod.

"I wish that I could beg you to keep her safe and alive. I wish that she could be spared. I wish that all of you could be, but I would give anything for anyone else to have taken her place," Mayor Undersee states, a blank expression in his eyes.

"She's not a fighter," I agree.

He grabs my shoulder and looks right at me. His eyes are full of urgency and desperation. The kind that will slowly drive someone insane.

"Please help her. Keep her safe. Even if you just teach her how to shot a bow and arrow. Please," he asks- no- begs. I'm amazed to find myself nodding.

"I'll do my best. I promise."

"Thank you, Gale," Mayor Undersee replies, as the Peacekeeper comes into the room to lead him out.

The Everdeens are next. We don't say much, but Prim manages to give me my District Token. At this point I'd almost forgotten about that. It's a thick bracelet made of strings but with little flowers woven into it. I slip it on and she smiles.

"Now whenever you feel homesick, you can look at the bracelet and think of us," she says proudly. I pull her into my arms just before the final Peacekeeper comes to escort me to the train. I see my family, the Everdeens, Mayor Undersee with a frail looking woman hanging to his arm, and a blonde haired family I'm not familiar with. They must be the rest of Madge's family, I realize. I feel her come up next to me as we walk towards the door. It swings open and then the reporters are upon us.

Haymitch drunkenly swings his arms and swears at them while Effie soaks it all up. I'm unsure of how to react, but I feel Madge shift closer to me, a sure sign of nervousness and feeling uncomfortable. I try cracking a grin, but I feel like a mad man the second I do. Thankfully, between Haymitch's swinging and Darius trying to do me one last favor, the reporters clear out enough for us to get to the train doors.

Haymitch pats me on the shoulder once and then gives Madge an odd look, acts like he's about to tell her something important, then mumbles incoherently to himself as he stumbles down the train. I give her a quizzical look, but she looks just as confused as I am.

"Well, come on and I'll show you to your rooms!" Effie flashes us what she must feel is a winning smile, but to me she looks like and evil elf that was in one of Posy's old children's books. Madge continues shrinking into my side and I begin to dread having made that promise to Mayor Undersee. There's no way anyone could ever turn sweet, shy Madge into a fighter none the less a killer.

If we became allies, I had no chance of winning but if we didn't she would last past the first night. I couldn't keep that promise to Mayor Undersee and win, but if I broke it I might as well die because I would never be able to face him again. It was a dilemma of epic proportions.

"Hurry up! You'll need your rest! Tomorrow is going to be a big, big, big day!" Effie called from down the hall. Madge and I are still next to the doorway as the last traces of our home, District 12, vanishes into the gathering darkness.

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><p><strong>It's a bit too internal, but I really didn't know what they would have to say at this point. It's just one of those times when there isn't very much to say, I guess. Anyways, the next chapter should (hopefully) contain more dialogue than this one. <strong>

**Please review and I hope you enjoyed!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews. I am going to attempt to check my email and actually *gasp!* **_**respond**_** to some of them for once! You may all pick your jaws up off the floor now. However, I will make no promises for I fear that I will only disappoint you in the end. But hey, I'm going to try!**

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><p><strong>Teamwork<strong>

I shrink as far behind Gale as I can manage. Years of sitting through dinners and presentations and all of the other political socializing that I was forced to do as a child has paid off only by giving me the ability to keep a straight face, observe obscure details, and to make myself look as small as possible. Unfortunately, only one of these "secret talents" will come in handy anytime in the near future. I should be practicing trying to keep a straight face no matter what, more than anything, but I continue attempting to disappear beside Gale and pray that if they can't find me when we get to the Capitol, I won't have to compete.

I'm pulled back into my normal sized reality by Gale turning around and nearly knocking me over. I gather from he surprised expression that he hadn't realized I was there. He clears his throat awkwardly and runs one of his monstrous, calloused hands through his shaggy black hair, looking anywhere but at me. I shift my gaze downwards at the thick plushy white carpet. Gale seems to have sprinkled a bit of coal dust on it because it's slightly gray.

I look up again and our eyes meet for a brief moment. He clears his throat again and mumbles:

"We ought to go see our rooms."

However, he makes no motion to follow Effie and he's blocking the doorway. I wonder if I should say something or try to squeeze past him. I decide that it would be far easier to say something. Also, I wouldn't look like a mute anymore.

"Gale," I start, but he gives me a look. It's a look so intense that I almost fall over. It's full of hidden pain and suffering; of envy and pity and maybe even a bit of anger. I swallow nervously. He obviously remembered me giving him the dresses for his sister, Rosy… no, _Posy_. I open my mouth to speak, but he says it first.

"We should go now, Madge."

He turns and walks down the car after Effie. I follow nervously, wringing my hands together behind my back. My shoulders shake as I look out of a window and see my home is nothing more than a blip in the distance. But I won't cry. I will not cry.

_Stay strong, my dearest Margaret_, my mother's voice rings in my ears.

_I will fight for my mother and father and even my Aunt Maysilee_. My hand touches my pocket and I feel the Mockingjay pin that I gave to Katniss last year. It's my token. _I will fight for Katniss and for Peeta too. I won't give up without a fight. _

I turn my nose up and take a deep breath as I walk past Gale into my lavish room. _Tomorrow is going to be a big, big, big day_, I remind myself.

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><p>Even at my large, three bedroom house, we didn't have a shower. Well, not a <em>real<em> shower. It was really just a drippy faucet placed high in the ceiling that you could stick your head under if your hair still had shampoo left over in it after a bath. I felt, for the first time in my life, truly clean. I lay on my bed, running my hands through my soft hair.

I'm about to start wondering how Gale's doing, when I hear a knock at the door.

"It's dinner time!" Effie calls excitedly.

"All right," I managed to call back, trying not to sound scared. My voice cracks, though, and I begin to realize how hungry I am. I couldn't manage to eat breakfast this morning and at lunch time my parents and I were saying our final goodbyes. I get up and head for the door, hoping that they have soup like what Merriam, our housekeeper from the Seam, used to make.

I walk in and Gale is already seated along with Haymitch and Effie. Though he still appears to be in some sort of drunken state, Haymitch seems to notice my appearance as well as my pin. For a moment it crosses my mind that he might still think I'm Auntie Maysilee. But I forget when a huge bowl of lamb stew is placed in front of me. I remember Katniss's comment about how this was her favorite part of the capitol. I take my spoon and timidly dip it into the stew. Haymitch is scooping his up like nobody's business and Effie has asked for a meal with fewer calories. Gale is staring at the way I hold my spoon.

The thought occurs to me that in the Seam the probably don't have time for manners or the money to buy utensils. He's probably only ever eaten stew with bread. I don't point any of this out, but I make sure that my movements are clear and easy to copy from where he's sitting.

I take a bite of it, and am struck by how delicious it is. Gale also looks amazed by the stew and my face must mirror his, because Effie begins to laugh about how easily amused all of the tributes from District 12 seem to be by the simplest of things and how strangely charming it is.

It feels like the meal just keeps going and going and going. There's a part of me that feels guilty for eating and eating and eating without a second thought while more than half of our district would have starved to death long ago without taking tesserae. I look across the table at Gale, and the chocolate cake seems to have spurred the same train of thought for him as well.

I noticed how much the bone in his elbows stick out, and I'm not hungry anymore.

Effie seems to have noticed that I've stopped eating because she says:

"Well, there's no use in idly sitting around! We'd better find out all we can about these other tributes than start talking strategy!"

I want to hit her so badly.

She wasn't a part of our "Team" (however loosely that term would be used), she wasn't from District 12, she didn't care that there were children starving in the streets and killing each other on television, and she didn't see how unfair the games were. She thought that they were _fun_, entertainment for the whole of Panem. She was an attendant of the Capitol, not a citizen of Panem.

But instead of hitting her, both Gale and I get up from the table and walk over to the plushy, soft couch that faces the large television. I feel myself sinking rapidly and I attempt to straighten up. Gale is next to me and sitting on the very edge.

"Well, the recap of the reapings doesn't start for another few minutes, so I might as well try to convince Haymitch to join us!" Effie says brightly as she turns back to the dining car to go attempt a retrieval on Haymitch and the bottle he's probably cradling.

I hear Gale sigh. I'm unsure of what to say. Maybe it's best if we don't say anything at all seeing as we'll be trying to kill each other in a little less than a week. But I feel compelled to speak, even if it will make this whole ordeal harder. I want to say something, but Gale speaks first.

"I'm sorry for what I said last year. I guess that anyone can get picked. First it was Prim and now you're going to the games. I guess the reaping really is fair," he mumbles all of this without meeting my eyes. He's uncomfortable.

"Yeah, the most unfair part of Panem is the only thing in life that's really fair. It's wonderful, isn't it?" I amaze even myself by saying this. Of course, I had been thinking along these lines for years, but thinking and saying were two different things. People could hear when you spoke.

But Gale doesn't show his surprise except for his eyebrows rising a bit. Then he snorts in agreement. Or at least I assume it's agreement.

"I'm sorry you were reaped. Not that I don't feel horrible for everyone that's been reaped, but it's just that last year was supposed to be your last year, and now…" I begin to ramble about how unfair it all is when Gale starts to chuckle.

I think that he might be crazy.

Oh, god, I hope he doesn't become a cannibal like that one tribute, Tardis or Titus or something, did all of those years ago.

He raises his eyebrow again and I am embarrassed to realize that I've spoken out loud.

"Sorry," I mumble, my cheeks and ears turning pink with embarrassment.

"I guess that it's just the absurdity of it all," Gale starts. "First we grow up starving and as if that isn't enough, we're then forced to kill each other for absolutely no reason. If anything, the games should give us an even larger reason to rebel, but they're what keep us down. I guess it's just finally gotten to me." He sighs as he finishes.

I'm about to reply, but Effie enters the room with a sopping wet Haymitch. Though I'm curious as to what's been going on, I'm reluctant to ask because I know that it can't be good. Plus, Haymitch is our only hope for what to do and it's evident that he's not going to be much help.

"Well, let's see what those other Districts are hoping to match us with!" Effie says, as she turns on the TV.

The girl from 1 (Satin, I think her name was) is tall and beautiful. Her hair is long and blonde, but not yellowy like mine. Her hair is like her name: satin. Her name is called and she strolls out of the eighteen year old section with pride and confidence.

The boy (Gleam) is also tall, but more muscle. He has a look of disdain and boredom in his eyes, but he still rushes forward to volunteer for a slightly scrawny looking sixteen year old. At nineteen, he probably realized that this was his last chance.

In a break from tradition, neither of District 2's tributes are volunteers. They're probably still recovering from watching Cato get eaten alive by those horrible mutts that looked just like Clove. Instead of the large, proud twenty year olds looking for a second chance at going in, two sixteen year olds are called and the crowd is silent as the call for volunteers rings out against the buildings surrounding the square.

Both tributes from District 3 look too young to be in these games, with their dark hair, pasty white complexions, and skinny arms. But they still stand there bravely, their noses in the air. The girl from 4 is like them too, only tanner and sixteen instead of nineteen or twenty.

I gasp as a male volunteer steps forward in 4. He's quite possibly the scariest looking person I've ever seen. Yes, 4 has a reputation for producing careers, but none like _this_. Even on the television, it's obvious that he's much taller than Gale (who is well over six feet) and wider than two of 12's largest Peacekeepers put together. He's like Cato or Thresh, only he's in _my_ games, not someone else's. He stands there proudly as the Mayor begins the reading of the Treaty of Treason.

_Mart Santiago_, is what the commentators call him. The name makes me shudder, for some reason that is probably related to fear. Gale unexpectedly wraps his arm around me and I feel a strange jumpy feeling in my stomach that distracts me from the recap as I try to calm my nerves.

I begin to relax, only to find that during the time I have spent calming my nerves that we are now on District 7. I hope 5 and 6 were nothing too special that I should keep my eye out for, but if they were, I probably would have noticed like I did for 7.

Both from 7 are nineteen and look like they've put in some serious time working in the forests chopping down those huge pine trees. _They'll be well equipped with an ax_, I dread to think. I shudder again, and Gale (probably subconsciously) pulls me closer. I vow to never admit how comforting it feels.

The tributes from 8, 9, and 10 are large and frightening enough, but are still nothing too special. They seem like the typical run of the mill District tribute- not eager, but not willing to give up without a serious fight.

The girl from 11, though, is petite and small for a sixteen year old. Even more so than I am. As she is called on stage, I see unmistakable pain flash in Thresh's eyes. I have a feeling, but the truth is that I just don't want to know. It would only make things harder.

A twenty year old volunteers for a sixteen year old that turns out to be his cousin as well as a very close friend. I can feel the tears start to rise when they start to pull the younger of the two away from the square as he screams out "Don't do it! Please".

But then, before I even know what's going on, the commentators begin dissecting Haymitch's drunken antics, deciding that they must be some sort of publicity stunt. As we all know, this strategy worked well enough last year. Haymitch had two in the final eight for the first time in almost ten years.

My name is called and the commentators begin discussing my ties to Maysilee Donner, from the last Quarter Quell, as well as Katniss. They all sigh in exasperation as Haymitch makes yet another drunken mistake and confuses me with his past ally.

I can feel Gale's shoulders tighten as he listens to all of this. I can't tell why, though. Maybe he hates me more than he always seems to have. _But why is his arm around you?_ The annoying, overly romanticizing part of my brain asks. I push that thought away as fast as I can because Gale is now being called.

He looks large and determined next to me. I can tell who will be receiving all of the sponsors, as can the commentators. He's handsome and has ties to Katniss, probably the most popular tribute of the most recent Games. He'll have no trouble with sponsors as long as he does well enough in training and remembers to play up his cousin status during the interviews.

I don't think that I have a chance.

"Well, tomorrow's going to be a big, big, big day, so I'm off to bed!" Effie says, getting up from her chair and heading out the door. We are left alone with the drunken mess that is our mentor and only hope: Haymitch Abernathy. Winner of the 50th Hunger Games and 2nd Quarter Quell. Prefers his liquor straight out of the bottle.

"Do you have any suggestions or strategies for us, Mr. Abernathy?" I begin, but I falter a bit as he starts laughing.

"Yeah, stay alive," he replies and then starts laughing as if he's just created the world's funniest joke.

Gale is not quite as amused.

"Look, we need you. District 12 needs you. If one of us wins, maybe we'll actually have a chance now!" Gale yells, frustrated.

"Fine, you want advice? Stay alive. Use your talents, if you actually have any. Don't be idiots, like Katniss was last year," Haymitch says nonchalantly.

This is the last straw for Gale. He leaps up, walks over to the chair that Haymitch is sitting on, and grabs him by the collar, hoisting him off of his chair and over the floor, with his feet dangling about four inches from the thick, white carpets.

"I don't know what your tributes have said in the past, but I'm not here to die. I plan on living and seeing my family again, and I'm pretty sure that Madge would also appreciate if you could get off of your lazy, drunk ass and actually do something to help your tributes for once!" Gale growls in a voice so low that I can barely hear it, yet it rattles the floor and chandelier.

I look at Haymitch's face, and he's staring at me sadly. He must be remembering Auntie Maysilee and their games.

"You look just like her, you know," he mumbles, as Gale slowly puts him back down.

"Yeah, I've been told by my mother," I whisper.

"Did your mom get to say good bye, or was she having another one of her headaches again?" he questions.

I'm confused by his questions, but at least he's coherent.

"She was too ill," I reply carefully.

Haymitch sighs again and flops back into his chair, scratching his long, greasy hair.

"Don't spend too long with any of the weapons during training, but try to find something that fits you well enough. Spend more time at the edible plants, knots, and first aid. They'll also help give you clues about what the arena will be like. During the private session, try to get the game makers' attentions. Surprise them. And stay alive," he adds. He grabs his bottle again and seems to drift out into nowhere. Gale and I take this as our cue to leave.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry about your Aunt," Gale mumbles as we reach my room.<p>

It's the first time that he's spoken and I'm unsure of what to say, so I settle for a shrug.

"At least we got a little something out of Haymitch," I say, trying to brighten the mood. It doesn't work.

"Yeah. Stay alive, Madge," Gale rolls his eyes as he walks down the corridor.

I feel something in my stomach again as I watch him go. I want to keep looking, but I can't even imagine how embarrassed I would be if he turned around and caught me staring, so I quickly try to undo the lock on my door.

I stumble into my room, flip on the lights. I pull off everything down to my underwear. There's a nightgown on the chair so I pull it over my head, then I collapse onto the silky sheets. I take a deep breath as I close my eyes and my dreams begin.

* * *

><p><strong>I don't know why, but this took me <strong>_**forever**_** to write. Usually I can crank out a chapter in an evening or two, but this took me Friday night, all of Saturday, and about three hours today just to write. I don't even know why!**

**You should all reward me for my hard work with a nice review :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for your reviews!**

**If anyone can tell me the significance of the appearance of Gale's prep team, I will give brownie points out!**

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><p><strong>Embers Burning <strong>

"Up and at 'em, Gale! Today's going to be a big, big, big day!" rings the ever present voice of Effie Trinket, the first person on my official hit-list.

I groan and pull the covers over my face. I've never been in a bed this soft and warm (unless Posy climbs in with me) so I don't feel like wasting the experience. After all, in a few days I'll be sleeping on the cold, hard ground if I can last through the blood bath.

The Games slowly enter into my thoughts.

This isn't some frou-frou, paid for vacation, this is the _Hunger Games_. Where one goes to _die_. Especially if they're from District 12, because our Mentor is a drunk now convinced that he's being haunted by the ghosts of tributes past.

"Damn you, Haymitch," I growl under my breath.

"That's probably not the best thing to say to your mentor, because you've either been dreaming of me or thinking of me, and I don't know which is worse," the slurry, sloshy voice cracks through my thoughts like a whip. I sit up; yank the covers off of my face, and turn around to see Haymitch sitting in the bright pink chair next to my bed. The bottle in his hands is about a quarter full, and I'm pretty sure that it's his first of the morning.

I am temporarily at a loss of words at not only finding Haymitch in my room at seven thirty in the morning but also seeing him this close to sober. It must have been years since anyone has seen him in this great of a condition.

"What the hell are you doing in here, Haymitch?" I splutter; my shock evident.

"I wound up in Madge's cabin last night and she was shouting your name a bit too much for my liking, but I thought I'd pass on the message," Haymitch says casually.

I'm not sure if this is supposed to be a joke or not, so I decide not to respond and hope for the best.

"I'm joking, Gale. I'm sober and trying to make a connection with my tributes. Isn't that what you wanted?" Haymitch laughs a fake laugh that's he's probably used on Effie too many times to count, then ads under his breath, "last night?"

"First of all, you're not sober," I point out.

"Fine, I'm _practically_ sober," Haymitch argues, and I can easily see where this conversation is headed. It looks a lot like a brick wall, only worse. I refuse to be brought to the level of arguing with my mentor as if he's five years old. I've done enough of that with Rory, Vick, and Posy over the years.

"Did you come in here for a reason or not, Haymitch?"

"Do you want me to lie about thinking up some important advice or do you want the truth?" he asks.

"The truth would be a nice change," I reply, trying not to roll my eyes.

"Fine, but just remember that you asked for it," he says.

"I will," I reply, already dreading this story.

"Let's see, last night you and Madge yelled at me a bit then went off to bed like good little tributes. I was in the living room feeling like shit, so I decided to head down to my room and find something to drink. I was kind of in the mood for some Vodka, but all that was left in my room was Sherry, so I stumbled in here looking for some and found it in that cabinet. I think I tried to leave after that, but the next thing I remember is waking up to you mumbling Madge's name in you sleep," Haymitch says the last part with an evil, elfish smirk and my cheeks turn red. I remember the dream I was having about Madge, and I would have preferred if no one had ever known about it.

"Look, it was nothing. I was just having a stress dream," I say, hoping to worm my way out of this.

"Yeah, and I'm the Queen of Panem," Haymitch rolls his eyes for emphasis before continuing, "look, Gale, I know your dad's never had the chance to give you this advice and your mom never had the time, so I'll tell you: Uptown girls don't go for the downtown guys, unless you're like Maxwell Everdeen and can apparently make those god damn birds shut up whenever you sing."

I'm shocked at Haymitch being actually almost… _caring_.

"Plus, at least one of you'll be dead in a few days," Haymitch adds.

I take back my thought about him being caring.

"How do you know about the uptown girl issue?" I challenge, mostly because I'm at a loss for what else to do and my cheeks are still pink.

Haymitch laughs again. It's not the fake laugh that he uses on Effie all the time. It doesn't feel like a happy, jovial laugh either. It's a dark, empty laugh used to hide painful memories.

"Maysilee..." he sighs almost dreamily, running his hand through his hair and staring off at some distant memory. "Maysilee…" he sighs again, and I now realize why having Madge here is probably making him drunker and crazier than usual.

"So you fell for the uptown girl?" I inquire, feeling a little triumphant.

Haymitch's head snaps around and he gives me a glare, but it soon softens to an expression of sadness.

"Yeah, I did. All it took was her popping up out of nowhere with that dart gun and before you knew it I felt like an even bigger, sappier, romantic fool than Peeta- freaking- Mellark looked like when he was sitting in that cave," Haymitch says.

"So is this why you drink yourself into a stupor every single day and night?" I ask

"Partially. Let's just say that I also managed to embarrass the Capitol and by the time I was done with my Victory Tour my mom, brother, and new girlfriend were all dead in a mysterious fire," Haymitch sighs and falls back into his chair.

So, not even the winners really win when it comes to the Hunger Games.

"Look, Gale, take my hint and try to separate yourself from Madge," Haymitch starts, but I feel the need to correct him about something.

"I never ever admitted that I'd been thinking about her like that," I defend.

Haymitch starts to laugh.

"Actually, you just did, Casanova, so my point still stands. Things never work out between the uptown girl and the Seam boy. Either one or both of you is going to end up dead or heart broken, even if we were just back in District 12."

* * *

><p>I get to breakfast and Madge isn't there. I hate to admit it, but I'm completely relieved. I can only hope that Haymitch forgets our conversation and I forget that horrible- oh, who am I kidding? That was probably the best dream I've had in ages. But I'll never tell anyone, not Madge, or Effie, or <em>especially<em> Haymitch.

"Now, Gale, you know I told you not to be late for breakfast! Why, Madgeret has already finished and is off getting dressed for the day!" Effie scolds as I sit down. I want to point out that she's messed up Madge's name, combining her given name and nickname, but I don't because Haymitch is staring at me with that evil little smirk.

Instead I sit there and listen as Effie explains what will happen once we reach the Capitol and how excited she is to get there, especially now that she's got quite the reputation after Katniss and Peeta's show-mance last year. Even though we're not quite as exciting, two relatives and friends of tributes are bound to make quite the impact on the crowd.

It's going to be a long day, as if the clues hadn't already been staring me in the face.

* * *

><p>I see Madge staring out of the giant glass window at the passing mountains. They make the ones surrounding district 12 look like hills, and I too, am fascinated by them. I come up to the window, and I feel Madge jump in shock. I guess that she didn't hear me coming.<p>

"Oh, hi Gale," Madge says, breathing a little heavily. If it had been Katniss, she would have heard me coming in an instant. It's kind of nice to be able to sneak up on someone like that. I immediately shake the thought from my head and remind myself that Haymitch will never let me forget if I'm caught.

"They're pretty impressive, aren't they?" I say, gazing out the window, as we pass a small area of orangey looking rocks that remind me of fire.

"Yes. They make out mountains look like little hills. Effie said that we'll be there around eleven thirty and that most of the ride today is towards the north," Madge says, her eyes still fixated on the window and whatever she's managing to see through it.

"I'd better tell you that Haymitch says to just sit back and let your stylist do whatever they feel they need to do to you," I'm actually not making this up as an excuse to talk to Madge. Haymitch mentioned it over breakfast, and judging by the way that he's been acting around Madge, it's very clear that she's not going to be getting the best advice from our mentor.

"So I guess Haymitch is mentoring you and then you'll be passing the word along?" she asks. I must admit that she's pretty quick with picking up on these things.

"Yeah, it looks like it. He probably thinks that he's being haunted by the ghosts of tributes past," I attempt to joke, and it's really horrible, but suddenly we're laughing hysterically because there hasn't really been anything else to laugh about in the longest time.

* * *

><p>We get off the train in a gigantic shining city: the Capitol. It looked like a bunch of those hard candies an old lady had once given Posy had been stuck together to form buildings and even people, in some cases. Effie's style was mild compared to their crazy alterations and accents.<p>

"Gale, now is no time for gaping like a fish out of water! You need to meet your stylist," Effie scolds as she hurries me into a familiar looking building. I'm too overwhelmed and awed by everything around me to take much notice of what Effie, Madge, Haymitch are doing.

I see Madge being lead down a long hallway and I'm following her. Then Effie pushes Madge into one door and leads me to one further down the hallway. She swings the door open, whispers "good luck" in my ears, and then I am surrounded by the craziest looking assortment of people I have ever seen in my life.

Maraschino has unnaturally bright red hair that is fluffed into an awkward looking curl that I once saw on a chocolate drop Posy found outside of the candy store. Her eyes are electric blue accented with bright pink lashes the color of the bubble gum sticks Rory used to spend every extra penny he made off of his vegetable garden on.

Othello has dark skin accented with swirling white tattoos and little green diamonds that match his eyes. Unlike Maraschino, his eyes could possibly be natural, but since this is the capitol, I highly doubt it. He wears a strange looking medal on his shirt.

Ophelia is the final member of my prep team. She has long black hair and pale skin that look natural, however, her skin is covered in tattoos of flowers and there is a diamond flower (maybe rue, but I can't be sure as flowers were always Katniss's thing) encrusted with diamonds in her cheek.

I'm striped then waxed then scrubbed until I'm bright red. My prep team stands around me and continually squeals as if they've never seen anything as exciting in their lives. I have, and I hate them all for it. It's foolish- no, it's just stupid. There are children starving to death and all they care about are my "overly prominent" eyebrows.

"Look, now you're ready for Portia to start working on you!" Ophelia squeals.

_So what the hell have they been doing all this time? Playing a game?_ I think, stunned.

They leave through a different door than the one I entered through and then my stylist walks in.

Portia.

I'm amazed by how _normal_ she looks. She is naturally tall in the first place- and at least as tall as I am with her heels on- with long brown hair and dark skin. Not really olive like mine, but not quite as dark as the skin of the tributes from District 11. The only things that clearly mark her as a Capitol Citizen are her purple eyes, purple highlights, and the small, glittering flecks of purple implanted in her cheeks. I feel relived by this and also because I saw what Peeta Mellark wore last year and it wasn't half bad.

"Hello, Gale. I'm Portia, your stylist. This is my third year with District 12 and my tenth year overall styling for the games. Last year, Cinna and I decided that enough was enough and that we were going to ditch the typical coal mining get up in exchange for something edgier- more exciting. We're going to try that again, this year," she says as she walks around me, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Which Districts did you do before ours?" I ask, actually curious because I can compare her work from her previous years and think of my chances.

"I styled for District Two. I was in my final year of apprenticeship, but my mentor died just before the opening ceremonies and so I was left in charge as a test, almost. I knew Cinna because he started his apprenticeship a year before I became the stylist for District 2 and we had worked together on the Victory Tour outfits for Annie Cresta when her stylist became ill. It was part of Cinna's apprenticeship and I was his instructor. Then a few years ago, someone complained that I had gotten one of the best districts without ever paying my dues, so I volunteered to take the boy from 12. It was too late to really get my ideas heard, but the Cinna came along last year when old Claudius finally retired and now here we are," Portia explains to me.

I think back and I begin to remember Claudius. It was always miners except for the one year with the coal dust and almost nothing else. That one had been embarrassing, but at least it had been different than the same old horrible miner outfits. Then I start to think about the outfits for District 2. They had always been good for just about as long as I could remember. They'd had two victors in the seven years Portia's styled them, I realize. And she and Cinna almost broke District 12's curse last year when Katniss became the girl on fire. I know that I'm in good hands and yet there's something about Portia that throws me off.

"So you got stuck with District 12 after getting the best district for years?" I ask suspiciously.

She looks at me and I can tell that she is wary but also seems to understand my angry feelings of resentment towards her. After all, she went from the best of the best to the bottom of the bucket and didn't really have a choice in the matter.

"Gale, I became a stylist because I thought that if my tributes stood out at the opening cerimonies, they might have a fighting chance to get sponsors. It doesn't matter what you look like if you're a career; I could have put them in your miner outfits for every single appearance and the still would have won the games and the sponsors. But 12… you've never really stood a chance, you know," she ends thoughtfully and I suddenly feel much more trusting towards her. It's weird.

* * *

><p>"Subtle yet startling" were Portia's exact words to my raised eyebrows.<p>

"Glowing and mysterious" were what Cinna had yelled through the door when I'd asked.

Portia looked at me with such pride that I was almost scared of what would happen if something managed to go horribly wrong. I knew, of course, that we would be safe from the embers, but even in the chariot I still couldn't shake the fear that we would somehow get burned to death before the games even started.

_Mart from 4 is a much bigger threat_, I reminded myself. Standing here, I felt even more afraid of him than I had while watching the recaps of the reapings. Now I knew how huge he really was. And I could tell which others would be threats.

The girl from District 7 (though I hate to admit it) makes me uneasy. I remember that girl from about six or seven years ago- Johanna, I think it was- and how she played the crowd and other tributes into thinking she was weak and frail. This girl looks like Johanna did after she showed her true colors.

The girl from 4 looks tiny compared to Mart. He's been eyeing her with disdain, probably because she's not as strong as he is and he believes that he will win with almost no effort. She looks like she feels the same way. Even though 4 has a reputation for having careers, it's nowhere near the level of District 1 and especially 2. This girl looks like one of the girls that thought someone else would volunteer for her, but it looks like there were no takers.

I sigh and decide to quit observing. I only end up going on tangents against the Capitol and the Games. It sounds strange, but I can't wait for Madge to get here. It feels weird sitting on this chariot all alone just watching the other tributes.

Out of nowhere she seems to materialize at my side, breathing heavily. I make out words and it sounds like Cinna was explaining how to work out costumes. I also catch the words "plug", "switch", and "extension cord" as she pulls herself onto the chariot.

Her skin is still pink, I notice, and her hair is braided up to look almost like a crown. Cinna has left her freckles uncovered by foundation and I see that her angle is going to be the sweet, innocent, maybe even naïve, girl out to just do her best. I've seen it play out many times but it's only worked a few that I know of.

"How's Cinna?" I ask, trying to start some sort of conversation instead of continuing to sweat through this incredibly awkward silence. She looks surprised, but she hasn't been here for the past fifteen minutes just watching.

"He's nice and very smart about this whole thing. What about Portia? I heard that she used to be with District 2," she asks.

"I guess she's like Cinna, only prouder and with more experience," I finally answer.

We sit there for a little while more, each of us still completely miserable with our situation. Finally the chariot carrying the tributes from District 1 pulls out of the gates and we climb up onto ours. I get up first and then lean over to help Madge up when she's done plugging in our costumes.

"Thanks, Gale," she mumbles, but I am too shocked by how she looks to respond.

It's almost like staring at a fire pit, only after the fare has died down to the point where it is almost out.

We look like we are covered in glowing embers.

_And Madge has never looked prettier_, an annoying voice in my head sighs.

_Shut up!_ I try to argue, _she'd look pretty in anything!_

And I'm slipping down the same slope that Haymitch found me at the bottom of this morning as we ride out into the shocked cheers of yet another crowd thrilled with the startling, fiery tributes of District 12.

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><p><strong>This might be the longest chapter I've ever written. I feel really proud, actually. <strong>

**Well, please take a minute to review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Another long chapter ahead for all of you! I'm on a roll :)**

**Thank you all so much for your fantabulous reviews! I will try my best to please you all with this new chapter.**

**Also, I changed a few things about how lunch and training worked. I hope that's okay. It just worked better for the story, plus my friend was borrowing my copy of HG, so I only CF for reference and that one doesn't go into much detail about training. Besides, it wasn't anything too major. I just thought that I would warn you all ahead of time.**

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><p><strong>First Impressions<strong>

I brace my shoulders and straighten my back as we exit the center and erupt into the cheering crowds of the Capitol. I try to put on my most dazzling smile and I feel my back and shoulders brushing against Gale's. I suppress the shivers that I've been getting around him ever since we were standing together on the train.

I lift my hand and start waving. Gale stays still. He's too proud to wave, but I sneak a quick glance and I see that he's smiling uncomfortably, lifting his hands as if telling the crowd it isn't necessary, and inclining his head too. _He must be going for the humble angle_, I realize. I start to nod whenever I hear my name shouted or the calls of "I'm sorry about your cousin/ Aunt/ best friend" begin.

_They know our connections_, I realize. This gives us a huge edge. We might not be star crossed lovers, but we are the poor, final remembrances of past tributes that are willing to die in order to avenge and bring honor to their loved ones.

We glow- like our costumes, I discover- with the sorrows of the past.

_Thank you, Cinna_, I think as we begin to circle around the Center.

* * *

><p>Gale and I stand in the elevator after the Opening Ceremonies, waiting for it to arrive at floor twelve. The doors finally close on the crowds, Peacekeepers, and other tributes and I let out the breath that I seemed to be holding in for the entire chariot ride. Gale also looks relieved to finally be out of the giant spotlight that's been shining on District 12 ever since our reaping.<p>

"That wasn't too terribly awful," I sigh as the elevator begins its rapid ascension towards the sky.

"Yeah, you're right. I just wish that we didn't have to pretend, you know. How much we hate this and all of them," Gale sighs.

I'm a little more shocked than I should be. After all, the Capitol does send children to their deaths every year. However, I don't hate the _people_ of the Capitol. I don't particularly _like_ them, but hate is far too strong of a word for how I feel.

"I don't hate the people. I just hate… _this_. How they think that we're glad to be here and enjoying this as much as they are," I explain.

"You weren't acting like you hated it tonight," Gale points out.

"Neither were you," I snap, giving him a glare. He just raises his eyebrows and murmurs:

"Fair enough, I guess."

"I'm sorry," I sigh.

"For what?" Gale asks.

"For acting like this. It's just… the stress… and the fear too. I- I don't know what to do but I'm just so scared of everything going wrong being just horrible," I blurt out, on the verge of tears. The stress really has been getting to me. But Gale just laughs.

"Madge, everything already has gone wrong," he says darkly. I shudder, realizing the truth in his words.

* * *

><p>I wake up and I feel sore and nervous. But a little happiness also manages to creep in. I begin to remember Cinna's words as we left the elevator: "You were both just named in the list of the top five tributes to sponsor," he had said. Then Gale had hugged me and whispered a quick "thank you" in my ear. I don't know what for; maybe he thought that I had managed to draw in the sponsors.<p>

_Maybe_, I think in that little, crazy, hopeful part of my brain,_ just maybe, everything will work out in the end_. But even I can tell that I'm either lying or going crazy. Either way, though, I'm just setting myself up for disappointment because this is the Hunger Games and, win or lose, _nothing_ works out in the end if you're one of the tributes.

So I sit across from Gale at breakfast trying not to look at him even though my eyes keep on shifting up as if they are magnetized to him. Once, our eyes finally meet and he gives me a sad little smile. I try to return it, but forget that I have cereal in my mouth. Haymitch sees this and snorts loudly as Effie runs off for some napkins. Gale glares at Haymitch. I can feel my cheeks turning red, so I look down again.

Effie rushes back in with an Avox and some towels, but Haymitch stops her.

"Take a pill already. They should just head on down to training now," he groans, rubbing his shoulder. I wonder if Gale has punched him over something. The bastard kind of deserves it so I don't feel all that sorry for him.

"Come on, you two! Haymitch is right; you had better head on down to training now!" Effie decides.

A feeling of dread begins to build in my stomach. I've never used a weapon before, unless you count a bread knife, and I have this feeling that the Game makers won't be all that impressed by my ability to slice bread evenly.

"We can stick together, Madge. I can show you how to use a few things," Gale whispers. I jump. I hadn't heard him appear at my side.

"Thanks, but you really ought to practice and try to make some alliances. I'd only hold you back with that. Besides, I'm sure that I'll find something I'm good at," I lie through my teeth and it feels wrong. I can tell that Gale knows because he's giving me this odd look.

I sigh. This is going to be a long three days.

* * *

><p>We arrive last at the Center, just in time to hear the speech about how thrilled the Capitol is to have us.<p>

Now, as we are left to our own devices, the first stage of the Games has begun. I can see the career pack forming; however, there is one noticeable exclusion: the girl from 2. In her place are both tributes from District 7. The girl from 4 also looks a bit left out of the planning, I notice. If one turns on them, it'll be her, I think. She looks like she liked the girl from 2 more and would much rather be her ally than join with the careers, but she seems to realize that this charade is her best hope for survival.

"Madge, would you like for me to teach you about archery? Or spears?" Gale offers. I don't know what his angle is, but it seems like he's trying to get himself killed. No one should want to ally with me seeing as I have no skills of any kind, save for piano playing.

"Gale, you should really be trying to make some alliances. I'll be about as much use in the arena as a wet sponge," I sigh.

"Look, Madge there must be-" he begins to say, but I cut him off.

"Gale, please. I don't want to be the reason why you die on the first day," I snap. He looks a little startled but thankfully not too hurt by my outburst. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, then sighs and walks over to the archery station where the boy tribute from three is being instructed on how to hold his bow.

I conceal myself over at the edible plants section and see if I can learn anything about what the arena will be like this year. I look around and Gale is practicing archery with the boy from 3. Gale is doing exceptionally well and the other boy doesn't look to be half bad at it.

I hear a clatter next to me and I see a girl about my age with almost powdery looking dirty blonde hair and freckles that are almost the same color. It is cut in a short bob with bangs that stick up from underneath the pink head band she wears. She's been trying to cut open a small reed, I notice, but has cut her finger by accident.

"Maybe we'd better go over to the emergency first aid station instead?" I try to joke.

She looks confused, at first, and then she smiles a little. She seems to realize that I'm making an attempt at kindness- awkward kindness seeing as we'll be trying to kill each other in a few days' time- but it's still kindness none the less.

"I'm Avan, District 5," she says, sticking out the hand that isn't bleeding.

"Madge, District 12," I reply. We both ought to know each other's names, but it feels polite to make the proper introductions.

"Your costumes were fantastic last night," she says.

"District 5s' were pretty good, too," I say. They were, actually. They were also almost on fire, but with wires covering them instead of embers.

We head over to the First Aid station because the edible plants really haven't been all that helpful or interesting. The instructor has me clean out and then patch up Avan's thumb using a small bandage a splint, and some strange herbal paste that smells like the pine trees that grew up by Victors' Village. I wonder if that's a clue about the arena or if it always smells like this.

We listen as the instructor babbles on and on about different injuries and what to do in this case or this case and in this climate versus this climate. He spends a lot less time talking about Jungles and warm weather than he does about cold weather. The words "snow" and "frost bite" seem to be popping up too often to consider a coincidence, I decide. In the arena, there will probably be snow unless they are using reverse psychology. Either way, though, it gives me comfort to know that I have some sort of guess about the arena.

I look over at Avan and she seems to be bored by this talk of how to heal frost bite and such. Either she's very dumb or a very good actress, I decide. After thinking it through, I feel that it would be far better to overestimate Avan than to underestimate her. Avan, the actress from District 5. I'm pulled from my thoughts by the sound of the bell signaling lunch.

"Great, I'm starved," Avan sighs as we make our way to the cafeteria.

Like every meal in the Capitol, there are dozens upon dozens of choices of food. I can see bread, hams, muffins, and even what appears to be a whole turkey down at one far end of the assembly line. I hang back as Avan goes ahead, waiting for Gale. If things were different- far different- then I would be willing to make the effort to eat lunch with Avan. She doesn't seem half bad. But I'll be trying to kill her in a few days, so why bother? It'll only make things harder.

Gale comes up behind me and I begin moving forward in the line of twenty-four quiet tributes. The silence is eerie, broken only by the sounds of clinking plates and utensils. I take some bread, butter, green beans, carrots, ham, fruit salad, and a bit of chocolate cake. I look at Gale's plate to find mostly bread and meat with a small slice of cake. There's a part of me that wants to laugh at the fact that even mister sullen eyebrows (I hate to admit that's what I called him when we were little kids) is immune to the taste of chocolate.

We are the last two out of the line and everyone seems to be eating and making small talk with their District partners, save for the career pack, who are all sitting together, and the girl from 2. She's sitting by herself and I feel obliged to sit with her. Plus, it's the closest thing to an empty table left. The staff was probably used to not having to provide an individual table for districts 1, 2, and 4. I nudge Gale, and we sit down opposite each other with the girl's seat in between us. She looks a little surprised to have company.

"Hello!" I say, trying desperately to be friendly. She looks at me as if I've got lobsters crawling out of my ears. Gale rolls his eyes.

"Hi," she says quietly.

"Well, I'm Madge and this is Gale. We're from District 12. What about you?" I ask. Gale shakes his head a little and I have the urge to yell at him. There's nothing wrong with trying to be friendly.

"Penelope, District 2 and the first tribute of the District not to be included in the career pack in decades, according to Brutus. Oliver was almost left out as well because they think we're too weak," Penelope mentions in a too casual voice. I have the feeling that she's trying to get us to give away something about our strategies, so I go for an answer that is overly innocent to let her know that I can tell what she's up to.

"Yes, Peeta was probably the first tribute from 12 to ever be included," I say, eyeing her. She raises her eyebrows and I can tell that she knows what I'm thinking. This only confirms my suspicions about her, but she probably knows that already. Gale seems to be far too busy stuffing himself to notice our silent exchange.

Most of the meal continues in silence until Penelope leaves to go back to training. Gale and I (along with a few other tributes) go to the line for seconds. I see a bowl of strawberries and Gale laughs as I pass them by.

"What?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Well, all of lunch I've been wondering why you haven't taken any strawberries. I remember how much you loved them back in District 12 and I thought that you'd for sure eat as many of you could now that they're free," he explains.

He may find it innocent enough that I haven't taken any strawberries, but my ears turn bright red beneath my hair. I'll never tell him that I don't even like strawberries all that much. I only bought them because of a twelve year crush that I'd had since my first day of school when he knocked me over running to the small bucket of balls that the Capitol had provided the school with back when Haymitch Abernathy won the Quarter Quell.

"Yes, well, they'd remind me too much of home," I lie as I grab a dish of blackberries.

* * *

><p>In training that afternoon, Penelope meets me at the knots station. She's not very good and the instructor spends most of the time we're there trying to get her square knot untangled. I finish what the instructor calls a double byte figure eight, thank him, and head out. But Penelope appears at my side out of nowhere.<p>

"You need to learn how to use a weapon, Madge," she says, crossing her arms and smirking.

"What?" I blurt out; aware of how stupid I must sound. But I'm too shocked by the fact that she wants to help me to really care.

"Yes, Madge, a weapon: W-E-P-O-N," Penelope says. I want to point out that she's forgotten the A, but I'm still too shocked to do anything.

"No, I meant why do you want to help me? We'll be enemies in a few days," I explain.

"Or we could be allies," she suggests. I begin to consider it, for a moment. We're both smart enough and observant enough to figure out the other tributes. But I'm lousy with a weapon so why would she need me? Unless she's really a part of the career pack and trying to get me killed faster.

"Why should I trust you, Penelope?" I ask.

"Fair enough," she laughs bitterly. "I figure that if we're allies till the end, I'll have a greater chance of winning. I'm not going to lie to you, Madge; I just want to go home. I know that it seems mean, but I'd rather team up with someone who knows her way around plants and is useless with a weapon than someone who could kill me in my sleep if they get angry."

"I get it, Penelope. And you're right, I'll be useless when it comes to killing people," I admit.

"So does this mean we're allies?" she grins.

"I guess it does, but no lies. We both know why we're here," I decide.

"Perfect, Madge. Let's see how you are with a knife."

* * *

><p>Penelope and I spend the rest of our training time together. I teach her about plants, first aid, and knots and she does what she can to help me with weapons. I find out that she's one of three kids and was never quite as into being a career as everyone thought she should be so she was sent to the traditional school instead. She still trained in her P.E. class, but it was no where near the amount of training that most careers and other kids in her district got.<p>

I also learn her inability to remember anything about plants. She is genuinely confused when attempting to separate the edible and non edible plants. I can tell that it's genuine by the way she tries desperately to hide it, so I let her get away with a few so that she thinks she's doing alright. I can't let her know that I've figured out a weakness even though we're now allies.

Gale spends most of his time with the tributes from Districts 3 and 9. He goes to archery only that one time then learns about knives, fires, edible plants, and First Aid. He grabs me strawberries at lunch one day and says that I should have one because once we get into the arena I might never have them again. I eat one and they have never tasted so good.

"He's almost as bad as Peeta freaking Mellark was last year," Penelope giggles to me one day at the spear throwing station. I grab one and it flies into the dummy's stomach. Not too bad for the first try of the session.

"Penelope, I hate to break it to you, but I'm pretty sure that Gale has hated me since we were kids. I'm the mayor's daughter that he's sold strawberries to for years. I'm rich, he's poor," I explain, but she just rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, right. I'll be waiting for the moment when he professes his undying love for you to Cesar Flickerman," she laughs.

The spear flies into the dummy's head and we both start to grin.

* * *

><p>"Good luck in there, Gale," I say after Penelope leaves our table for her private session with the Game makers. She would have never forgiven me for wishing him luck when it's beneficial to us for him to fail miserably today.<p>

"Yeah, you too," Gale sighs.

We sit in silence, each completely miserable and nervous, until the girl from 11 (I found out from Penelope that she's supposed to be Thresh's sister or cousin of some sort) is called in for her private session. At this point, Gales starts to speak again.

"Did you ever figure out a good weapon, Madge?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"Yeah, I'm okay with knives and spears. Useless with a bow and arrow, but at least knives and spears are _something_ to show the Game makers," I reply. Gale nods, but he looks incredibly stressed about something. Not that I can blame him, of course. We're about to fight to our deaths in front of everyone we love and loves us back.

"I should have helped you more," he blurts out.

"It's fine that you were looking out for yourself, Gale. Only one of us can live so what would the point have even been of teaching me anything?" I say.

He sighs as if he wants to say something but decides against it. We sit alone in the silence for a few more minutes until Gale speaks again.

"Did you make any alliances?" he asks.

"I think so. What about you?" I reply, not wanting to get into too much detail.

"Same," he says.

Then his name is called and I am alone for about twenty minutes, with only a sense of dread for company.

* * *

><p>"Hello, Miss… Undersee," the Head Game maker, Plutarch Heavensbee, says. The rest are too busy drinking and eating to really give any notice at all. But I notice something else, too. It looks like a force field has been set up between them and the training floor. I can't imagine why, so I ask.<p>

This seems to get their attention even though no one answers me, so I decide to start.

I throw about ten spears and they all hit close to a vital organ on the dummies. One even manages to go straight through the heart and another through an eye. Unfortunately, I was aiming for the spot between the eyes, but the Game makers don't know that, so I pretend like I meant to do it. I throw a few knives too, but they seem to be getting bored with all of this.

That's when I see the paints.

I grab a large pallet of yellows and greens as well as a peachy color and a blue one, and begin to work on my creation on the floor. I've never been particularly gifted with the visual arts, but I've drawn this many, many times before. It's on every card I have ever given my mother and every family picture I've ever drawn at school.

I step back so the Game makers can see what I have painted. A few seems confused, but one in the back whispers something and they seem to understand. The others look shocked at both my abilities and the portrait of my Aunt Maysilee with her golden Mockingjay pin.

A buzzer goes off and Plutarch Heavensbee rises carefully from his seat.

"Thank you, Miss Undersee. You may go now."

I leave shocked with myself and scared for what is to come.

* * *

><p><strong>This is the only good thing that came out of me blowing off my Hamlet essay. Spoiler alert, but <strong>_**literally**_** every major character, except for one, dies. I am not even kidding you. It's almost like Hunger Games in that sense, except with badly imitated British accents (courtesy of my English class).**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading the chapter as much as I enjoyed procrastinating. Please leave a review (even though you guys have been **_**fantastic**_** about it, I still feel the need to ask). **


	6. Chapter 6

**Enjoy this chapter. This chapter is so long that I probably did an absolutely horrible job editing it. **

**But anyways, thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews! **

**They totally make my day, but I'll shut up now and let you read!**

* * *

><p><strong>One Last Time<strong>

I give up waiting for Madge after fifteen minutes, but I don't want to spend all night with just Effie and Haymitch, so I ask the Peacekeepers on duty if I can take the stairs. They look surprised, but eventually agree (with pitying looks) after I explain that Haymitch is my mentor. I enter the dining room ten or fifteen minutes later and Haymitch jumps up, sees me, and then sits back down as I walk inside.

"Is there something I should know?" I ask worriedly.

"Oh, nothing, Gale. Haymitch is just excited that Madge is going to have such a strong ally when we don't even know her training score," Effie explains happily. I am confused by this. Has Madge, by some insane miracle, managed to get in with the careers?

"Effie, why don't you go look for Madge?" Haymitch suggests. Effie looks confused, but Haymitch begins to yell, "Let me talk to my tribute, damn it!"

Effie looks offended, but leaves.

"What is it, Haymitch?" I ask.

"How'd you do in training?" he asks frantically.

"Pretty well, I guess. They had to replace a few of the dummies, I think," I say.

"Yeah, I heard. Don't be too worried about your score," Haymitch says. I'm surprised to know that he must have Game maker friends. How else could he possibly know that I was getting a good score? And if I was going to get a good score, then what was Haymitch so worried about?

Just then, Madge and Effie enter the dining room. Effie is blabbing on and on about an alliance between her and Penelope, the girl from 2 that we've been eating with. Is this why Haymitch is so worried about? That Madge will end up like Peeta? I almost laugh because the girl from 2 is definitely _not_ a career or capable of _that_ sort of harm despite her cruel nature and extensive knowledge of the most efficient ways to kill a man.

"Enobaria called and said that Penelope would like to send in a formal request, Madge," Haymitch explains when Madge looks confused by all of the talk about alliances.

"Why would she send in a formal request? Penelope and I have already talked it over and planned on becoming allies if we both survive the blood bath," Madge says.

"Yes, but I guess she wanted to seem trust worthy to you, so she had her mentor send us an actual request! Oh, this is so exciting. Just wait until all of my friends hear about this! It's like actually being part of a real competitor's team," Effie exclaims. Madge, Haymitch, and I ignore her.

Even though Effie seems satisfied with this new development being the cause of all of Haymitch's "excitement", he hasn't stopped pacing and jittering. There must be something else that's bugging him; something big enough to pull him out of his drunken stupor and transform him into a worried- perhaps even caring- mentor.

Madge is also looking a little shaken up, which only fuels my suspicions that something is not right.

"Madge," I whisper, as I pull her away from Effie and Haymitch into the hallway, "What exactly did you do during your private session?"

She looks incredibly guilty as she responds:

"I threw some knives and spears and stuff and then…" she starts out loudly enough, but begins to mumble as she moves past throwing spears.

"What?" I ask again.

"I- I painted a picture of my aunt that died during the Quarter Quell, Gale!" she hisses frantically. I notice that she's starting to cry, but I'm too shocked to do anything.

_She painted a picture of a dead tribute in front of the Game Makers._

I realize with shame that though I talk a big game about wanting to defy the Capitol, Madge has truly outdone me here.

I showed the Game makers what they wanted.

Madge showed them what they deserved.

"The picture wasn't even that good," she sniffs and I am snapped from my musings.

"Is that really all you can think about?" I ask. "You just signed your own death wish!"

"I wish I was," and now I can hear that Madge has really started to cry.

I look down at Madge. My hands are still on her shoulders from when I pulled her out into the hallway and her blonde hair is a mess. Her eyes are rimmed with red from all of her crying. I want so badly to pull her to me and kiss her as if there's no tomorrow, which is pretty close to the truth. Thankfully, Effie calls out something about our training scores being announced so we head into the dining room to watch and hope for the best.

* * *

><p>The careers all get nines, save for Mart's 11. Penelope gets a seven, which is low for a tribute from District 2, but then again she hadn't been trained as well as most of the past tributes. Byte from District 3 gets a five, but I know that he's far better than that. I assume that he's playing the weak side to try and keep others from seeing him as a threat. Both tributes from District 7 get nines, like the rest of the careers, who they will most likely be allying themselves with while we're in the arena. The rest of the scores are low to medium. Soon it's time for District 12.<p>

I almost close my eyes, but it's not my score that I'm dreading, it's Madge's.

Gale Hawthorne pops up and a large red ten flashes underneath of it.

All the commentators begin to theorize about how it must be some sort of family trait and I remember that Katniss and I are supposed to be cousins, or something.

Margaret Undersee pops up next and a red seven flashes beneath it.

She looks stunned at the fact that her score was almost average (a little on the higher side, but close enough), considering the circumstances. I sneak a quick glance at Haymitch and he looks relieved as well. I don't know what sort of strings he had to pull in order to save Madge's score from being too extreme, but I'm thankful for it.

* * *

><p>I wake up in the morning dreading what is to come tomorrow: the interviews.<p>

I hope that Haymitch doesn't come up with some idiotic idea to make Madge and me the next "star- crossed lovers" of District 12. We all know how well _that_ turned out the last time. But I know that there's absolutely no way that he'll let me forget about what happened on the train, so I begin my mental preparations.

I head out to breakfast and Madge wobbles in with Effie behind her.

"See, Madge, you're doing fantastic!" she cheers. Madge looks like she would like nothing better than to slap Effie across her stupid face, but she manages to restrain herself.

Effie leaves to go retrieve Haymitch from wherever he passed out last night and Madge and I are left alone with piles and piles of food.

"So what has Effie done to you now?" I ask.

"High heels, Gale. They're horrible," she groans. I laugh. There's no way that a pair of shoes could be _that_ bad.

"You're lucky; you get to wear flats! You'll never have to learn how to walk in these things," Madge snaps, but it's still funny. We're marching off to our deaths in forty eight hours and all Madge can think about is a pair of shoes.

"They can't be that bad," I smile.

Madge just shakes her head miserably and groans.

* * *

><p>"We're not going to reveal to the whole of Panem that you loved Katniss," Haymitch says when we reach the rooftop. Effie's been onto him and the Capitol attendants about his drinking problem lately so he's currently sober. I have this strange feeling that he's agreed only because he's tired of seeing Maysilee everywhere he goes, but I'm saving that for later usage depending on what my interview angle is supposed to be. Besides, I think that I prefer him passed out and drunk- even if he had just vomited or wet himself- as opposed to this sarcastic little tick that just won't leave you alone.<p>

"Yeah, I figure that probably won't help out District 12's reputation too much," I reply sarcastically. Two can play at this game, I decide, and I almost bring up Maysilee but then I remember Haymitch controls what I'll get while I'm in the arena (if we get any sponsors, that is).

"Look, Gale, you're interview angle is not going to be funny and, honestly, I don't think I even need to explain why, at this point," Haymitch says.

"So what do I do, then?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

"Play up the hard working family man sort of thing. Talk about how hard it was to watch Katniss die, after all, she was your favorite _cousin_," Haymitch puts a lot more emphasis on cousin than I find necessary, but I see his point. The Capitol will eat it up.

"Haymitch, why are we on the roof?" I ask. He ignores me, but as the morning wears on, I realize that it must be because of all of the noise up here. Cameras and microphones would have a hard time picking up on a conversation. I decide that maybe Haymitch isn't as bat shit as I thought he was.

"Cesar will do his best to make you look good, after all, that's his job," Haymitch instructs me on what I should say, and by the end of the morning, I'm not too bad at it. After lunch, though, is _so_ much worse. I'm practicing etiquette with Effie, and I'm horrible at it. Of course, Madge was practically a natural, being the daughter of a government official, but I'm miserable. Heading off to dinner is a relief.

* * *

><p>"Now, be sure that both of you get a lot of sleep! After all, tomorrow is a big, big, big day!" Effie says as we head off.<p>

Madge and I don't say anything, but we both get into the elevator and ride up to the rooftop. Haymitch must have taken her up here as well. Even though the wind is loud around us, it feels calmer; more peaceful, than the rest of the Capitol.

We sit in on a bench overlooking the streets of the Capitol.

"I want to go home so badly. I- I just want for all of this to be over, Gale. I hate it so much, I really do," Madge sighs. I instinctively put my arm around her. She stiffens and I realize that this is probably the first physical affection I've ever given her.

"It'll be alright," I mumble, unsure of what else to say or do.

"No it won't, Gale. Even if one of us wins, we still have to go home knowing that we played right into their hands. That we did just what they wanted us to do," Madge doesn't have to explain who she means by "They".

"Then we don't give them what they want, Madge. We find some way to show them that they don't own us; that they don't control us. We don't have to give into them," I say.

"We already have, Gale," she whispers and I know she's right. We're giving the Capitol what they want: tributes willing to do anything to survive.

"Oh, Madge," I murmur as I pull her head underneath mine. She smells like the Capitol shampoo we've been using but also fresh bread. It's nice, in a weird way.

"Gale," she mumbles into my chest. Then she pulls away.

She's looking at me with these big blue eyes that are all innocent ad I don't even know what I'm doing, but before I know it, I've leaned down and kissed her. My hand is cupping her cheek and I'm amazed that she isn't pulling away from me. And soon, she's kissing me back. I'm running my hands into her hair and I feel her hands wrapping themselves into my hair as well. I have this weird feeling in my gut that I'm doing something oh so wrong and yet, how can it be bad when it feels like this, the other half of my brain argues. So I keep kissing her because it does feel so good and so _right_.

A car horn down below snaps us back into reality.

Madge is blushing ferociously. The hair on the left side of her head is standing up and her lips look a little swollen.

"We'd better go to bed now, Gale. Tomorrow's going to be a long day," she says. Then she gets up and races for the elevator before I even know what's happening. I turn around to try and catch her eye, but the doors have closed and I'm alone except for my overly confused thoughts about Madge Undersee and the slaughter of the Hunger Games that are nearly upon us.

* * *

><p>I assume that I somehow found my way back to my room, because when I wake up, covered in sweat and shaking, I'm in my bed on the floor for the District 12 team. I had been running from the cornucopia with Mart on my tail. The entire forest floor had been covered in blood and the trees were all bones. I finally reached a dead end at a river of blood, so I turned around and shot my bow and arrow. But I hit Madge instead. Then this little weasel appeared and it laughed just like Penelope. It said that she was going to go tell the Mayor and ran down a hole. I followed her and I was in the Mines again. There was a giant explosion, the same one that killed my father, only this time, Katniss and Peeta Mellark, the sap, are the miners. But the worst part of my dream comes when I wake up face to face with Haymitch for the second (and hopefully last) time in my life.<p>

"Holy shit, kid, from the way that you talk in your sleep I'd have thought that you were the victor, not the tribute!" Haymitch exclaims after I jump back and swear loudly when I've recovered from waking up to his face.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment, vote of confidence, or just another insult?" I ask.

"Not sure yet, kid," Haymitch says, "it's a pity, though, that Madge'll never get to hear all about your dreams before she goes into the arena."

I blush before I can stop myself. Haymitch sees and I feel like an even bigger sap than Peeta freaking Mellark. Gale Hawthorne does not blush. Gale Hawthorne does not get like this about a girl. Then again, though, the girl doesn't usually leave after the first kiss of the night.

"So she does know? How'd that work out, Casanova?" Haymitch asks, genuinely curious.

I groan and put my head in my hands. I don't want to see his face when he hears.

"Horrible" I groan.

"Okay, I'm not usually one for the encouraging, build up your confidence sort of thing, but it seriously couldn't have gone _that_ badly," Haymitch laughs, trying to be encouraging.

"She ran away, Haymitch. I kissed her and then she literally got up and _ran away_. Are you really going to try and convince me that it didn't go that badly?" I challenge. Haymitch, being the ever encouraging mentor that he is, seems to finally be at a loss of words.

When he speaks, though, I have to fight the urge to slap him.

"Surely your breath couldn't have been that horrible?"

* * *

><p>"Alright, Gale you may turn around now!" Portia says excitedly. I turn around, look in the mirror, and I don't look half bad, if I do say so myself. My shaggy black hair has been combed and styled to look a little messy, as is (apparently) all the craze in the Capitol, but it's still presentable enough for my interview. I have on dark slacks and shoes and my shirt is the same color as glowing embers, just like on our costumes for the opening ceremonies. It's probably the nicest outfit that I've ever worn. Nothing in my reaping outfit matched and the shoes were covered in duct tape.<p>

"Thanks, Portia. It's great…" I say.

"And I'm sure that you'll do great, too, Gale," Portia says as she reaches up to straighten my collar one final time.

I inhale deeply and Portia looks a little worried. I don't know if stylists and tributes usually get attached, but Portia's really started to grow on me and I'd like to think that I've had the same effect on her. From the frown lines, I assume that I have, so I reach out and give her quick pat on the shoulders.

"Thanks, Portia. You've been fantastic," I say awkwardly. I'm not particularly gifted with this sort of stuff, but Portia seems to understand because she gives my shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

"It's about time you headed on over to the prep room. Go on, Gale," she nudges me out of the door and I soon find myself surrounded by the other tributes in the prep room. I keep my eyes open for any sign of Madge, but she's either late or avoiding me because I can't see any sign of her.

I sigh and busy myself by observing the other tributes, like Madge would. Nothing in particular stands out to me, until I see something orange, like a sunset, almost, weaving her way through the other tributes towards me. It must be Madge, I realize, and my heart starts to race. She looks so beautiful.

I catch her eye and smile. She blushes deeply and smiles a bit, but still looks a bit upset at the same time. She's made no effort to come over to me, so I walk over to her. She's in a long dress the same color as my shirt, only it looks a little crinkly, almost like it's actually made up of real burning coals. Her hair has been pinned and braided up so that her face stands out even more. I have to swallow and clear my throat a few times before I can really talk to her.

"Madge…" I start, but she's full of surprises and cuts me off before I can get her entire name out.

"Look, Gale, if your angle is going to be 'star crossed lovers- two point o' or some other stupid shit that Haymitch came up with while he was completely wasted, I'd better let you know that I will not be a willing participant, so don't bother to include me," she snaps.

Though I seem to be channeling the overly romantic and sap covered spirit of Peeta Mellark lately, I'm not that much of a dumb ass.

"And, for the record, Gale, if I was Katniss, Peeta would have been the first one that I killed, for no reason other than my complete and total embarrassment in front of the entire country of Panem," Madge adds as bit of an afterthought.

"I couldn't agree more, Madge," I say.

"So you're not going to mention anything to anyone?" she asks. She sounds a little disappointed, but I assume that it's just nerves.

"Well, Haymitch already knows, Madge. The guy can read me like a book," I admit.

"What did he say?" she asks.

"He laughed at me," I admit begrudgingly.

She laughs a little but the music signaling our entrance begins to play and so we start to walk out onto the stage.

* * *

><p>We sit silently and listen to each of the tribute's interviews and angles. Both from 1 seem to be using the sexy approach. Penelope is using the smart, mysterious, and calculating angle. Byte's interview isn't too bad because he's seemed to impress the crowd after he admits that he helped invent these new movie glasses. Mart just looks like some sort of killing machine and all of his responses are short and a little frightening. The tributes from 7 also use this approach. Thresh's cousin is too nervous and twitchy to be very impressive, and then it's time for Madge. She's blushing as she ascends the stage and I assume that this is part of her angle.<p>

"Well, Miss Margaret Undersee…" Caser begins, but Madge interrupts him.

"Please, call me Madge," she smiles as if they were old friends.

"Well then, Madge, how have you enjoyed your experience so far in the Capitol? Is it everything that you thought it would be?" Caser asks.

"And more, Caser! I'd always seen it on the television and just wondered what it could possibly be like to live _here_, of all places! It's just all so beautiful and everyone has been so incredibly kind!" Madge gushes. The crowd loves it. They love her child like gushing and compliments.

"Well, you're actually a familiar face for two reasons, aren't you Madge? One of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark's closest friends and your aunt Maysilee was a competitor in the previous Quarter Quell along side your mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, is that correct?" Caser asks.

"Yes, Katniss and I were friends. I was much closer to Peeta, though. He was like my brother when we were little kids and even though we grew apart as we got older, every time I saw him, it was like we were just picking up where we left off," she says sadly. The crowd offers their condolences.

"And what about your Aunt Maysilee?" Caser prompts. He really is doing an excellent job with Madge's interview. The crowd loves her little sob story and innocent little country girl overwhelmed by this big city angle. I can only hope that my interview goes this well.

"Yes, she was my mother's twin sister. I- my dad," Madge has begun to choke up a little and I'm unsure whether she is crying for real or acting, "he used to tell me about how lively and happy my mother was. Back before my Aunt Maysilee died. After it happened, though, she was never quite the same."

"How did your mother handle you being reaped? It must have been hard for to say good bye her since her sister was killed all those years ago," Caser asks.

"She- she didn't get to come say good bye, actually," Madge says, and I can tell that her sniffles are real this time, "She was too ill, you see."

The crowd gasps and begins to cry out in pity and condolence for Madge. Her own mother wasn't even able to say good bye to her! How horrible!

""But I'm going to win, Caser," Madge states. "I'm going to win for Maysilee and for my mother. I'll make them proud."

"Well, I'm sure that your seven in training was only the beginning, Madge!" Caser encourages, and she nods.

"Yes, it was. I don't plan on giving up and losing in there." The crowd cheers and the timer buzzes.

* * *

><p>I begin my climb and sit in the seat. Caser's purple accents look far better on Portia. At least she knows how not to overdo it.<p>

"This must be some sort of new tradition from District 12! We are now up to two family members in one evening, with Mister Gale Hawthorne!" Caser exclaims.

"Yes, Katniss was my favorite cousin," I say. The crowd cheers.

"And she made it so far, only to be caught unawares by Clove of District 2 at the feast," Caser sighs.

The crowd cries out in sadness. Katniss was, after all, the favorite to win last year's games.

"Well, I don't plan on that happening to me. I will get home to continue taking care of both of our families," I say.

The crowd cheers, and Madge and I soon become some of the biggest hits of the evening.

* * *

><p>I'm sitting on the roof when I hear Madge behind me.<p>

"Couldn't sleep either?" I ask.

"Not at all," she whispers. She sits beside me and I see the worry on her face. I put my arm around her and she looks at me strangely. "Why did you kiss me?"

I'm unsure of how to respond. Hell, I don't really even know why I did it. It just felt right.

"Did you want to kiss me?" I ask.

"That's not an answer, Gale," she says, looking at me again.

"I have no clue, but it felt right, Madge," I admit.

She nods and starts to get up to leave, but I rise with her and pull her to me.

"Gale…" Madge sighs, looking away.

"I'll never get to do this again," I whisper. She looks at me and then presses her lips to mine. They feel soft and comforting and warm. I haven't felt that way in years, but she pulls away after a few seconds.

"I- I'll miss you, Gale, whatever happens," she chokes out and then she's running again.

_Just my luck_, I think.

* * *

><p>Portia brushes my hair out of my face.<p>

"Nervous?" she asks.

"A little," I admit. "What about you?"

"You'll do great, Gale. You have a better shot than you think," Portia says and she squeezes my shoulders one last time before I step onto the plate.

She waves as it rises and I give her a half smile in return.

Then I am blinded by the bright sunlight of the arena.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, forget what I've said about past chapters being long. This one is the longest. I don't think that any other chapters will get to this length and if they do, I'm splitting them up because it's too big for me to edit well. <strong>

**Don't forget to review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm so sorry, but it's going to have to be a shorter chapter, this time! But y'all should be able to hang seeing as the last one was well over 4,000 words. **

**The chapters will be mostly between 2,000 and 3,000 words from here on out. They have to be a bit shorter because I for you to be able to keep track of Madge and Gale. On the bright side, though, this might mean quicker updates :)**

**Also, if it makes you feel better, this is probably the shortest that any chapter will ever get.**

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><p><strong>First Day Jitters<strong>

I open my eyes and am immediately blinded by the bright sunlight reflecting off of every surface around me. I shut them again, hoping that they'll, by some miracle, manage to adjust by the time my sixty seconds are up. I take a deep breath as the voice of Claudius Templesmith fills the air.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, let the seventy fifth annual Hunger Games and third Quarter Quell begin!"_

I open my eyes again as I begin to count the sixty seconds in my head. I can see the cornucopia about twenty yards in front of my and all of the supplies strewn around it. The cornucopia appears to be in a deep valley surrounded by pine trees and huge, rocky mountains. Then I see what the sunlight has been reflecting off of: fresh snow.

_Shit!_

There'll be tracks everywhere, though, so if I'm being singled out by anyone, it'll be hard to decipher my foot prints from anyone else's. On the bad side, though, I'll leave tracks where ever I go, so that's one more thing that I'll have to worry about. But that's not the most important thing, now.

I look around me and see that Avan is two plates away to my left, looking confused. Penelope is two after her and she catches my eye. We're going to grab what we can and run. Whoever out lasts the other will wear their District token and get the supplies that we have left. I look past her and I see Gale on the plate next to hers. I want to jump off of my plate and into his arms. I want him to hold me and kiss me like he did last night. But that's not going to happen ever again. All I can do is try to live through this or at least make sure that, if I die, Gale or Penelope wins.

I look in front of me for the first time and see a backpack and knife about an arm's length away. _I'll grab that_, I decide, _and then Penelope and I will run for it_.

The gong sounds, and chaos erupts around me. The boy from six, who was next to me, lunges for the backpack, so I push him as hard as I can, bend over, grab it and the knife, then turn to see Penelope running towards me. I take off towards the woods, Penelope right on my heels.

* * *

><p>In the distance, I can hear the yelling and screaming and the clashing of weapons that signal the bloodbath, but I ignore it and readjust the pack without stopping. Thankfully, there isn't much snow on the ground- maybe an inch, at most, so it doesn't hinder Penelope or I's running. I am glad for all of the practice that we have to do in District 12 with running down the tunnels in case we are ever stuck in the mines during an accident.<p>

"Wow, District 12, how'd you get to be so good at running like this?" Penelope asks after about two miles and fifteen to twenty minutes of hard running.

"We did this for mining drills during school. It was in case there was ever an accident while we were in the mines. You had to be able to run for the lifts as fast as you could so that you could get out before all of the tunnels caved in," I explain.

"We never did that back in two. We hardly ever had cave ins. Only explosions," Penelope comments.

"We probably dig in different types of rocks and dirt because we had a lot of cave ins," I say.

"Do you have any idea how we can get rid of the tracks?" Penelope asks.

I think about it, but nothing comes to mind about how we could go about getting rid of our footprints with out leaving any other traces behind. Then, I have a brilliant idea. It might not work so well at first, but I'm sure that it'll be better than nothing.

"What if we walk backwards? Then at least no one will know which direction we're really headed in!" I offer up. Penelope nods and adds in her own idea.

"If we go single file in each other's footprints, it'll also hide that there are two of us," she says. "The only problem is, how do we start?"

I look around and see a large, rocky field in the forest.

"We'll go through there, then start with it. Who ever finds the tracks will think that they've lost our tracks in there," I say, and we start moving.

* * *

><p>We climb and scramble our way through the rocks for about ten minutes until we feel like we've gone far enough. Then we start out again through the thick forest. This time, however, Penelope goes first, walking backwards. I follow her, my knife poised to attack and my eyes wide for any dangers in our path.<p>

Penelope and I don't stop moving like this for miles. We keep going until we finally reach the edge of the forest, where a raging, freezing river separates the thick pine trees from the steep incline of the rocky slopes of the mountains that surround the forest and cornucopia. By this time, hours have passed and I'm shivering drastically from the cold that comes with twilight.

"Let's sit down and rest. Right here, in the cover of the trees," Penelope instructs. There are two large boulders that form a small crevice on the edge of the trees, so we squeeze in there to rest and sort through the supplies in our packs.

"I've got a pair of night glasses, two packs of dried fruit, a package of beef jerky, three knives, a sleeping bag, a pack of matches, a metal pot, a water bottle, iodine, a pair of gloves, and about two yards of rope," I say as I lay everything out .

"I have an extra blanket, three packs of beef jerky, a water bottle, about a yard of rope, a spear, two knives, a pair of mittens, two pairs of wool socks, four packages of dried apples, and a package of heating pads," Penelope says.

"What's a heating pad?" I ask, but it sounds like it'll come in handy here.

"Back in District 2, people will sometimes get stranded between villages on the way to things like the reaping and other stuff. We have heating pads for when they get frost bite after being stranded in the cold and snow," Penelope explains.

"We'll have to keep an eye on those. We can't lose them," I decide.

"No shit, Madge?" Penelope replies sarcastically. I roll my eyes and we both laugh a little.

"Do you think that we should start a fire?" I ask.

"Maybe if it's in here and if we can do some damage control with the smoke," Penelope says as she continues going through my backpack, for some reason.

"Hey, what's this for?" she asks as she pulls out what looks like a small fan with a large metal hook on it. I had skipped over it while going through my pack because I could find no practical use for it while in the middle of a snowy forest.

"I have no clue, but I don't think that it's going to be all that useful here, in the middle of a freezing, snowy forest," I point out.

"You're probably right, Madge. But still, when we move, I think that we'd better take it with us. Just in case, you know," Penelope says.

"Yeah, there's got to be a reason that it's in here, after all," I agree.

* * *

><p>Penelope starts a small fire in the crevice and I fill the metal pot with water from the edge of the river. I take it back to the crevice and pour a few drops of the iodine in it and then let it sit. I grab some rope and begin trying to tie a few snares to put out, in the hopes of catching something. Also, it's something to do. I've never been one for small talk and, from the looks of it, neither has Penelope.<p>

The fire starts up and most of the smoke gets caught by the boulders above us. Besides, there's a strong wind blowing, so it'll be hard to tell where the smoke is actually coming from. I realize that I could care less, though, about the careers. The fire's warm and the trap catches a small rabbit. It's so wonderful to have something to eat. Breakfast this morning feels like it was years as opposed to hours ago.

We begin to review small pieces of advice that we picked up from the instructors at the training sessions: most of you body heat is lost through the ground so sit on a back pack or pad. Sleep on one too. Put your hands in your arm pits to warm them up. Move around to avoid hypothermia. Stay as dry as possible. Change socks often, if you can. We say these things to each other like a grocery list.

Somewhere in the distance, we hear the canon. But the sound of the rushing river drowns out the sound of the individual shots. We will have to wait until the capitol projects the faces of each dead tribute into the air to know how many of us are left to fight it out.

* * *

><p>Dusk gathers around us and we both look up to the darkened sky as the anthem of Panem plays throughout the arena.<p>

"I'll count, you keep track of District numbers," Penelope says. I nod.

The first to appear is the girl from 3. Next is the girl from 4. Then appears the boy from five and both from 6. The girl from 9, both from 10, and the girl from 11 appear next. It stops after that, and I fight the urge to sigh with relief that Gale's picture did not appear, though I doubted that he would be stupid enough to take part in the blood bath.

"Nine are gone," she comments, "Which means that fifteen of us are left."

"6 and 10 are both out," I say, "and, if my assumptions about Avan are correct, 5 will be out pretty soon as well."

"I wonder what the career pack will look like this year," Penelope comments.

"Hopefully we don't have to find out first hand," is my reply. Mart, the boy from 4, still terrifies me. I don't ever want to see him again.

"Look, Madge, if, by some miracle, we make it to the top five, can we separate then? I don't mean to sound like a sap, or something, but it'd be a lot easier to kill an enemy than to kill someone who you know that you could have possibly been friends with, if things had been different, that is," Penelope asks me.

"No- I get it. If it comes down to you and me- or me and Gale- or even me and Avan- that would just be awful." I agree.

"I'd hate to have to kill my District Partner," shudders Penelope. I nod in agreement. "It'd be worse for you, though, since you knew Gale before hand."

"Yeah…" I mumble in agreement.

"How'd you two know each other, again?" she asks. I have to wonder what the hell she's doing. Gale and I's (almost/ kind of/ maybe) relationship is completely irrelevant. If anything, it'll reduce me to tears at the thought of what could have been. But I answer anyway.

"He used to bring us strawberries," I say. Then I add a quick "from the meadow." In case any Peacekeepers back in District 12 are watching. I wouldn't want Gale's family to get into any sort of trouble over something that I said.

I hear a rustling in the trees and Penelope looks at the fire sadly.

"We'd better put it out now. The Career pack might be out looking for survivors," she decides, as she stomps it out for the most part. There are still a few embers left glowing, though.

* * *

><p>I put on the night vision glasses and start to push the large boulder near our crevice in front of the more exposed opening. There's still a way that we could get out pretty easily if the need arose, but it's harder to see from the outside world. It's the perfect place to camp out, though: Hard to find, but you're still not trapped like a rat.<p>

Penelope unzips the sleeping bag and we both climb in after we put our backpacks underneath it to keep our warmth from being absorbed by the ground. She wraps the extra blanket around our shoulders and we try to squeeze closer together.

"I'll take first watch," I offer. She nods slowly, and I can feel her drifting off beside me.

* * *

><p>I keep the night vision goggles on, and keep the embers from the fire burning underneath the pot for as long as I can. I'm worried about the glow giving away our position, but the warmth is nice. Eventually, though, I start up the fire a bit, stick the pot over it, then cook the meat until it's done. It keep my hands on the little pot too, until Penelope starts to stir from her sleep. It's still dark out and she offers to keep watch until the morning.<p>

I wrap the sleeping bag around myself and shut my eyes as tightly as I can. I try not to think about the games or the faces of all of the dead tributes in the sky. I try not to think about how I might have to kill Penelope or Avan or even Gale. I try so hard and eventually, I start to succeed.

As I nod off, my only thoughts are of Gale and our families back in District 12. I wonder how they're all doing right now. But I push that thought from my mind as the tears threaten to start falling. I can't think about mom and dad, or Mr. Mellark, or even Gale, who is in this big huge mess with me. I cannot look weak. I have to be strong. I have to win.

No, I will win.

I will return home.

I'm not going to be another one of the Capitol's little casualties in the games. I'm not going to be their pawn.

I drew Maysilee for a reason, I realize, even if I didn't know it yet.

The Capitol doesn't- and will _never_- own me.

_I'll find a way to defy them, in the end_, I decide. I don't know what it will be or how I will do it, but I will find a way. I'll find some way. I have to. It's like daddy always said, "Be sure you put your feet in the right place, then stand firm".

* * *

><p><strong>Everything that they're doing to preserve heat, I learned on my backpacking trip. This is what I'm basing the Games off of the most. So if you're ever stranded in the wilderness with only your ipod touch and this chapter down loaded onto it… well, I'm glad to have been of service (the tone of my voice would be sarcastic, if I were saying this out loud). <strong>

**Well, even though it was a shorter chapter, you should still review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, this one is longer than the last chapter about Madge. Don't worry, though, I promise that the games will get better soon! Maybe even in this chapter…**

**Also, there's a flashback in the chapter. I would write "FLASHBACK" or something in huge capital letters before it starts, but I have this strange feeling that you are all smart enough to figure out where the flashback is.**

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><p><strong>Second Day Theories<strong>

We are running as fast as we can. The trees and bushes and rocks fly past us as we do our very best to get as far away from the cornucopia and the blood bath as possible. I try not to think of Madge, who will most likely be teaming up with Penelope at this very moment, that is, if she isn't already dead.

Desperately, I try to separate my thoughts and feelings about Madge from the rational, instinctive, and game playing part of my head. I think that, last year, Peeta Mellark proved that a whirl wind romance and the Hunger Games don't really mix all that well.

Byte calls out that we should take a quick break and see if there's anything useful in our back packs. I can tell that he's tiring quickly, but I agree if only for the simple reason that we need to find some way to cover up our tracks in the snow. I know that it should have been my first priority, but when you're running from a pack of murderous Careers, you tend to get sidetracked and do things like run for your life very easily.

We dump out our packs and, between the two of us, we have five packs of jerky, seven packs of dried fruit, a water bottle, three knives, a bow and sheath of arrows, a pack of matches, iodine, a package of bandages, two yards of rope, and three blankets.

We try not to be disappointed, but our clothes aren't going to cut it during the freezing nights. We'll have to risk building fires and possibly drawing attention to ourselves seeing as neither of us managed to get our hands on a sleeping bag.

At this point, our biggest threat isn't Mart or even the capitol: it's going to be the cold.

* * *

><p>Byte and I pause next at the sound of the canons firing.<p>

_Boom_

_Boom _

_Boom_

_Boom_

_Boom _

_Boom_

_Boom_

_Boom _

_Boom_

"Nine," Byte remarks quietly.

"Fifteen," is my dark reply.

"We'd better keep going, Gale," Byte says. "We can see who made it and who didn't later on tonight."

I nod in agreement, and we keep on walking, me in front- bow and arrow only a movement away from a position to attack- and Byte in the rear, with our "snow blower thing" attached to the bottom of his back pack. Thankfully, he had made a couple of those back in District 3 so he knew what it was even after I found it attached to my back pack, called it a piece of useless junk, and then tried to throw it away into the forest. Now, we don't have to worry about leaving tracks.

"Remember, it's the one with the two peaks on it," Byte calls. I nod to let him know that I remember which peak we are headed towards.

* * *

><p>"<em>Look, Gale, call me crazy, but I have this theory about how the arenas all work," Byte begins. We are at the station for spear throwing. After meeting over by archery, we realized that together, we would be the perfect team. We're both smart enough, but Byte is a genius. He's not the best with weapons, which is where I come into the picture. He does all of the strategizing and I make sure that we have enough to eat and aren't killed. <em>

"_Byte, what does this have to do with anything?" I ask._

"_Look, Gale, if we can figure out a way to escape the arena, we can both live," Byte says. I have to admit, at first, the idea seems to be perfect. We both live. We both escape and run off into the wild. But then I get to thinking about our families._

"_What about the Capitol's reaction, Byte? They'll kill our families if we do that," I point out._

"_Gale, I haven't got any family. I have nothing to lose. I get it if you don't want to help me, but could you at least consider it?" he asks. _

_I think about it for the rest of training and into the night. If the plan worked, then all of the tributes could escape. _Madge could escape_, part of my head says. I try to push that thought as far away from the rational part of my brain as possible. Nothing with girls is _ever_ rational. _

_The next day in training, my first words are:_

"_I'm in," I say._

"_Great. I know what to do and how to get it to work out. You'll just have to follow my lead and trust me, Gale," Byte says excitedly. _

"_One condition, though," I say. Byte nods, signaling for me to continue. _

"_I'm out of there when you actually blow up the escape route."_

* * *

><p>We keep walking for the entire day until we reach a rushing river, filled with chunks of ice and fallen tree limbs. On the other side, we can see the steep incline of the mountains, though they really just look a lot more like a pile of rocks than anything else. An intimidating pile of rocks, I'll give the Game makers that, but they don't look anything like the mountains back in 12. There are absolutely no trees or any plants of any kind growing on them. It's just sheer rock and cliffs all the way up. And, because they surround the entire arena, Byte and I are going to have to find a way up and over them, until we've reached the other side, where we can hopefully find a way to escape. I'm even more doubtful that Byte's plan will work, now that I see the arena. But he is determined, and I agreed to help him. Besides, this might help me out last all of the others.<p>

"We should stay here for the night and then try to find a way up and over tomorrow morning," Byte decides. I can tell that he's a bit thrown off by this new development, but not enough to consider taking his chances in the arena. He knows that he has no chance here. Brains can only get one so far. But the same goes for brawn.

"I agree. We won't get much farther tonight and I'd rather cross the river in the day light that way we can see where we're going," I agree. "Do you want to split up and look for a place to camp along the shore?" I ask.

"Yeah, but let's not go too far. It'd be pretty bad to lose each other now," says Byte.

I nod in agreement as I start heading to the left and Byte heads for the right. I'm looking for a cave of some sort or maybe a thick thicket of bushes that we can stay out of the wind and other elements in. If we can start a fire in it, that'll be a bonus.

"Hey, Gale! I think I found a good place over here," Byte calls a bit too loudly for my liking, but I ignore this and hurry over to him before he can do anything else that might give away our position to the other fifteen tributes that are now dispersed throughout the arena.

I reach Byte and see that he has found a large rock with an even larger over hang. We put our back packs inside of it and I keep Byte and the back packs covered as he races down to the short distance to the rushing river to fill up our bottles with water. I have my bow and arrow poised and ready in case of an attack, but thankfully none come. Instead, I shoot two squirrels that look like they will have a fairly decent amount of meat on their bones.

Byte returns with two filled bottles in his arms and a bit of wood for a fire. Now that the sun is going down, it's safer to risk building a fire. I use only one match after I shape the wood into a small square filled with sticks and brush. I don't want to waste anything, not when a match could go up to hundreds of dollars in the blink of an eye for sponsors.

"Should I get a stick to cook the meat on?" Byte asks. I know that he probably feels useless right now, seeing as he is incapable of starting a fire, so I tell him to go look one and then soak it in the river so that it's harder for it to catch fire. He does so and returns about ten minutes later. I've already skinned both squirrels by this point.

* * *

><p>The anthem of Panem begins to play and I notice how quickly the dusk has gathered around us. Back at home, Posy would be begging me to let her stay up later, Rory would be begging me to take him out with Thom, and Vick would be sitting next to the fire in the spare room that we had stuck an ancient couch in reading some old, fraying book that he got from the library about anything from different rock formations to how to build cars. But I can't let my thoughts wander now. All I can focus on is surviving this and getting back to them.<p>

The first face to appear is the girl from 3, Cellus, I think her name was. I look at Byte and he looks as if he's trying to keep a straight face. The next is the career girl from 4, then the boy from 5, and both of the tributes from 6. 7 and 8 are skipped over and I feel a sense of dread that both Cedar and Birchly are still alive. Fimble, the girl from 9 whom I considered allying myself with at one point, appears next. The two from 10 appear next and, finally, the girl from 11. No one from 12 is in the sky tonight.

Byte sighs and puts his head in his hands. I know that he and Cellus weren't particularly close, but it's got to hurt, losing your district partner especially this early in the Games. I give his shoulder an awkward pat and he mumbles something that might have been a "thanks".

I turn my attention back to the fire and begin to cook the meat from the two squirrels. Byte begins to restlessly play around with the rope, tying useless knots and then undoing them. I know that he wishes he could be more useful, but that doesn't exactly help improve my mood. I sigh as the darkness of night surrounds us. It's freezing, but we have food and water, which is better than most tributes make out on the first day.

We eat our squirrel meat in silence, both dreading the days that are to come.

* * *

><p>The light is still dim when Byte and I set out towards the river. We gather up some wood and wrap it in the blankets then we stuff it all into our packs. We'll need wood for the fire and it doesn't look like we'll find any of it on the other side of the river. I'm skeptical about this plan, at best. But our chances are probably better over there because at least we'll have the huge, dangerous river between us and most of the other tributes.<p>

"We should probably look for a sort of make shift bridge, a place with enough rocks for us to use to jump across, or a place to wade across if nothing else," I instruct and we walk along the edge of the river until we find a fallen pine tree that stretches across almost the entire river.

Byte gets up first leaving me in the back to fend off any attackers. We didn't hear anything last night, which is probably a bad sign because the crowd and the Game makers will both be thirsting for blood to be spilled. They won't be interested in whatever it is that Byte and I are doing. There's no action unless one of us falls in the river, and even that isn't going to please the Capitol audience that much.

* * *

><p>We manage to scramble across the fallen tree without too much difficulty, but Byte has somehow managed to scrape his leg open and it's bleeding all over the place. I decide that aligning myself with some one this useless was not exactly the best course of action. Hell, Madge probably would have been a better choice! At least she had the ability to wrap up a wound properly.<p>

But at least Byte knew how useless he was.

I have just finished wrapping up Byte's leg when we hear a sound coming from the other side of the river.

We don't even have to turn around in look to know that it's the career pack and that they've spotted us.

"Take my pack and go, Gale. I knew that I was never going to make it," Byte says.

I don't have time to argue with him and, in the end, this change in the game works out to my extreme benefit. If the Careers kill Byte, that's only one less person for me to worry about killing, in the end. So I take the pack and run for it, trying to maneuver my way in between the jagged, gray rocks that are shooting up all over the place. Byte stumbles along behind me, but we both know that this is no use and that he'll be killed soon enough. I turn around only when I hear Byte's cry of pain and I see him being stabbed by the boy from District 2.

I turn and keep moving as quickly as I can, up the rocky, dangerous terrain. It's not ever a mountain; it's a pile of rocks- jagged, sharp rocks, at that. It's definitely not an ideal situation, but it's a whole lot better that Byte's. I almost turn around to look at him, but I know that he'll be dead soon.

_Boom_.

The canon only confirms my fears. Byte is dead.

A knife whizzes pat me as I continue my climbing, but it bounces off of a rock and falls down a long, dark crevice between two rocks. If the situation was different, I might try to reach it, but right now is not the time to be thinking about weapons. That knife won't matter at all if I'm dead.

I manage to scramble up and over the top of a pile when I hear a loud rumbling sound coming not from the sky, as thunder would. It's not coming from the careers, either. No, it's coming from the earth itself and I'm suddenly back in the darkness of the mines listening to Thom shout at us to run for the lifts. It's like a cave in, only outside.

I feel the rocks around me start to shake as the rock slide begins to sweep along the mountain side. I have to get out of here and as quickly as I can.

_Boom_.

Though I am alerted to the death and pleased that it is most likely the canon for a career caught in the rock slide, there are more important matters to attend to. I begin to try and climb down to the river, but even without the shaking of the ground the descent would take quite some time, so my movements are slow going and careful.

Boom.

Two careers are now dead from this havoc brought on by the Game makers, yet I still seem to be just fine despite a bit of shaking. I'm either lucky or too popular with the crowd to kill off just yet, but I don't stop to ponder this just in case it's the former.

I'm almost to the river when a spear flies by me. I turn around briefly to see that Mart and Liam, the boy from District 7, have managed to avoid the worst of the rock slide's damage. That's not exactly ideal because if I had to chose any careers to be taken out by the rock slide it would be Mart, Liam, and Liam's district partner, Birchly.

_Boom_.

Three careers are dead now. Two are on my tail.

I manage to get to the river and an ax lodges itself into the ground by my feet as I slide off of a rock and onto the river side. They must be close now if Liam can manage to move the ax that close to me. I grab an arrow from the sheath and string it onto the bow. I turn and shoot. I hear a cry of pain and I'm almost positive that it's Liam, but now's the time for me to make my get away.

I'm racing along the river when I hear a cry from the other side.

"Gale, over here!"

I look and see a very blonde someone on the other side motioning to a group of rocks that are practically stepping stones. Mart and Liam aren't far behind me, though, and I see that she has a spear out and ready to throw.

I'm across and I hear the satisfying thunk telling me that the spear has found its mark, but no canon sounds, so she's missed any vital organs. It doesn't matter, though, as we race through the snowy forest until we're sure that we've lost them.

"Long time no see, huh?" Madge asks.

I grin grimly in response.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I saw Hunger Games last night and it was SO good! Especially in the beginning :) I was just so mad that they cut out a certain character that I happen to love.<strong>

**Don't forget to review**


	9. Chapter 9

**So, I am finally back. Hooray! But not for long… I am spending about two months abroad in Germany as part of an exchange program. I expect to be busy doing… well, stuff, so I would not encourage you to hold your breath for regular updates. I'll try to get another one (or two) in before I leave and I'll be sitting at my host family's home for about a week in July while everyone at the Gymnasium (the German equivalent of High School) I attend takes their version of finals, so I'll try to update then. I get back home at the end of July, so I'll be able to update then as well.**

**I did a lot of revamping for my story. I changed my idea of what the arena would be like a lot, so that delayed updates a bit. I also got sick and lazy. **

**Anyways, enough of my rambles. On with the story.**

* * *

><p><strong>Third Time's a Charm<strong>

It's a bit warm out when I wake up so the snow has melted quite a bit. The sun looks like it's been up for about an hour- maybe two- so I assume that Penelope let me sleep in a little bit because nothing really happened last night. I see her down by the river, watching for any sign of life on the other side. Her back pack is already packed and with her and I can't help but worry that she's getting ready to abandon me in my sleep or something. But I see a bit of the food and I'm still in the sleeping bag, so I guess that she's just decided to pack up early. I let out a relieved sigh, though, when she walks towards me with no signs that she's regretting our teaming up.

"Get your stuff packed. I didn't hear any canons last night and the Capitol isn't very patient," Penelope mutters.

"Yeah, well, it looks like it might be another easy day ahead!" I say, attempting to be optimistic. Penelope doesn't seem all that amused.

"Look, Madge, the careers will be scouring the forest for any tributes that are left. It's the game plan that we're all taught from the moment that we enter the District 2 Training Center: kill the others as quickly as possible and, while you're at it, try to 'accidentally' knock off a tribute or two that's in your alliance. The bigger the threat they are, the better," Penelope explains.

"So no resting tonight?" I ask grimly.

"No resting until one of us actually manages to win this thing," Penelope smiles grimly.

* * *

><p>It's early morning and Penelope and I have both decided to go hunting and gathering for a bit before we actually set off to look for another place to set up camp. I have to admit that it doesn't really feel like the actual Hunger Games and it's starting to bug me. I feel like either Penelope or I should have been attacked or even killed by now because, to use a common cliché, it's too quiet. From what we see on television, the Games seem to be nonstop action from start to finish (well, except for a few times when too many tributes are just trying to wait it out). It's probably some fancy editing, courtesy of the Capitol and Game makers.<p>

I try to snap my mind back to reality as soon as I realize that it's wandering, though. My spacey tendencies are not going to be an advantage here in the arena. In fact, they are probably my greatest weakness in these Games besides my inability to actually fight or use a weapon well. My seven in training was just a fluke generated by my inability to properly censor my thoughts or think about the long term consequences of my actions. Or Haymitch's feelings of debt towards my dead aunt.

Either way, though, I (according to the statistics gathered throughout the run of the Games) should be dead by now.

_Dear Lord, Madge, can you just FOCUS?_ My mind yells at me.

_No! I could die any second and I have the right to space out a bit_, I retort.

Then I realize that I am arguing with myself.

I decide to gather some berries which, thankfully, takes a lot of concentration because of the risk of gathering poisonous ones on accident. I wouldn't want to be that one idiot girl who died from _berries_. I don't think that I could ever live that down. Although, I would be dead if that happened, so I don't think that it would matter all that much.

I take a deep breath, shut my eyes, and when I open them I see that I am looking at one of the strangest things that I have ever seen. One of the many mountains that surround the arena seems to be collapsing towards the river. I continue staring, trying to figure out what is going on, when I hear voices on the other side of the river shouting.

I recognize one of those voices.

It's Gale.

_What the hell is he doing?_

But there's no time for that. Gale needs my help and badly.

He seems to be struggling through the rubble towards a fallen log that reaches most of the way across the raging and terrifying river.

"Gale, over here!" I shout before I can stop myself.

He sees me and nearly faints.

"Long time no see, huh?" is the only thing I can think of saying.

* * *

><p>"What the hell are you thinking, Madge? We need to get out of here!" Gale grabs my hand and takes off through the forest, running blindly through the thick mud.<p>

"Gale, slow down!" I pant. "There's no one on our trail and you don't know where you're going!" I gasp, and I'm right. There isn't anyone on our trail and Gale is running blindly away from Penelope and my camp site.

"Madge, you never know! We need to get out of here!" he hisses.

"Then let's go this way," I snap. Gale rolls his eyes, but follows me, albeit, quite begrudgingly.

"We're leaving footprints," he points out.

"We're packing up camp anyways. It won't matter," I reply.

Out of nowhere, the earth begins to move. Literally move. I hear the creaking of trees in the distance and the rumble of dislodged rocks on the mountain side. I feel Gale grab me and his nails dig into my shoulder as he wrenches me away from a falling tree. Then, as suddenly as it begins, the shaking and rumbling of the earth completely stops. I hear the crashes of a few more trees in the distance over Gale's heavy breathing in my ear.

"What was that?" I finally manage to whisper.

"It felt like a mine collapse, almost, but not really," Gale replies thoughtfully.

I nod, remembering the way that you could feel the shaking of an explosion gone wrong during an accident in the mines. This felt similar, but even more deadly and frightening than the slight tremors that wracked across the ground in 12.

We keep moving carefully and listen for the sound of a canon. None comes.

The Game makers will surely want to up the ante seeing as there were no unfortunate casualties of the shakes.

* * *

><p>"So you and Penelope, really?" Gale jokes, obviously trying to continue the rather awkward attempts at small talk he and I have been making. I decide to try and play along again, but in this situation, it's not exactly easy or satisfying.<p>

"Yes, really! And what about you? Did you and Byte team up or did he ditch you?" I try to joke, but Gale's face turns stony. I don't need to ask in order to guess what has happened to his ally. Well, most likely, former ally.

Gale and I continue our struggle through the thick mud in silence. The squelching sound from beneath my shoes only adds to the awkwardness of the current situation. I'll admit that I do not possess the world's greatest social skills, but I highly doubt that anyone could make this situation less awkward. One of us is going to die, this mud makes the most disturbing noises, and Gale kissed me. He _really_ kissed me. I know what I want to talk about: where's our relationship at now? But this is the Hunger Games and, as everyone saw last year, love does not belong in the arena. Besides, I don't want to have that conversation on national television. And I'm sure that Gale doesn't want to do so either.

I settle for the awkward silence coupled with the sound of my boots squelching as I try to pull them out of a particularly thick and sticky clump of mud. I freeze when I feel a pair of large and strong hands grip my waist. I swivel my head and look straight into Gale's light gray eyes. I swallow as I drop my eyes and try to control my blushing; knowing that if I keep looking into those stormy eyes nothing good will happen.

"Here you go, Madge," Gale whispers as he wrenches me out of the mud. I climb onto a fallen tree's trunk.

Gale follows me as I scramble up a series of rocks and boulders jutting out of the ground in an effort to avoid the mud. Out of nowhere, the ground begins to shake again. Gale grabs me and keeps me steady as the crashing of trees and the rumble of avalanches begins again.

The ground steadies again, so Gale and I continue. We're getting close to camp when we hear the crashing of a tree near by and a loud scream that cuts off suddenly as if whoever made the noise was punched in the gut. I begin to run towards the sound and Gale can do nothing except follow me as I crash through the forest.

* * *

><p>"Oh, Penelope," I whisper when I see her. She rolls her eyes as I pull the hair out of her face. A sarcastic little fighter to the end, I see.<p>

"Madge, what's…" Gale starts to ask as he stumbles up behind me. Once he catches sight of what's going on, though, he immediately falls silent. "Do you think that maybe I could move or roll it? Would that help at all?" he whispers once he's taken in the situation.

I am about to give him my rather solemn answer when Penelope speaks up.

"Of course it won't, you moron," she snaps.

She has a point. The tree falls right across her chest and abdomen, while her legs are caught up in the branches. A thicker branch must have caught her in the side of her stomach, because blood is slowly leaking from beneath the tree into a pool that surrounds her. Her face is a gray green color and her eyes are bloodshot. She coughs deeply occasionally, and each time a bit more blood spews from her pale lips and splatters onto her shirt. It's not hard to see that this is her end.

I feel the tears beginning to gather behind my eyes.

"Go, Madge. You're crying and you know that I can't stand it when people cry," she hisses.

"I won't leave," I whisper hoarsely.

"Madge," Gale whispers into my ear, "she's right. We can't stay forever and we need to get out of here in case more trees start to fall."

"No one deserves to die alone, Gale!" I snap. This shuts him up and he looks on solemnly for a few more seconds before he mutters something about gathering up the rest of Penelope's supplies that way we have something to live off of.

"Madge, please just get out of here. You have a chance, Madge. A really good chance, but you need to use your head, not your heart in here. Please, just leave me," Penelope whispers. I can see the tears that are threatening to spill.

"I won't leave, you, Penelope," I insist. She coughs again, blood spewing quickly now.

"Good luck, Madge…" she whispers and she closes her eyes, coughs one last time, and then the canon booms.

* * *

><p>"Where are we headed, Gale?" I ask as we trudge through more mud, pausing only when the trembles began again.<p>

"I know that this seems a bit risky, but seeing as the only water source in the arena is the river…" Gale begins, but I feel the need to interrupt.

"Or the mud," I add.

Gale gives me the famous Hazel Hawthorne stink eye.

"Fine, or the mud," he rolls his eyes for effect. "But look, most tributes will choose to stay closer to the river: there's water, possible food, and not as many trees to dodge. Almost no one will be in the forest tonight." Gale explains.

"Yeah, I'll give you that almost no one will be in the forest- and for a pretty good reason, too," I argue.

"Yes, so if we stay in the forest we won't run into the career pack, Madge," Gale says.

"But we will most likely be crushed by trees, Gale," I counter.

"Not if we stay somewhere safe, Madge," He grins. I raise my eyebrows.

"Where?"

"How about a large, sturdy, metal cornucopia?" he suggests.

* * *

><p>"It's freezing in here," I mutter as I wrap myself in the sleeping bag, my teeth chattering violently in the cold of the late evening. The metal cornucopia seems to suck all of the heat from your body. Even sitting on the backpacks, I am still frozen solid. Gale finishes putting out our small, rather unnoticeable fire and plops down next to me. His arm casually finds its way around my shoulders. I decide not to comment on it, all things considered.<p>

"Are you okay, Madge?" he asks quietly.

I want to give him some sarcastic answer about how wonderful it is, knowing that I will never see my family again. How wonderful it is watching a girl I might have considered a friend die. How wonderful it is knowing that this could easily be the last moment that Gale and I ever share. But instead, I murmur a quick no. Gale doesn't intrude or try to pry any further: he knows what we'll see tonight in the sky and he is aware of the reality of our situation.

The anthem blares through the silence and stillness of the night. We look up and find the faces of both tributes from District one. Gale murmurs something that sounds like "rock slide" as his form of explanation. I don't pry. I just brace myself for what's coming next. Penelope and her District Partner, Oliver, appear. I assume that Oliver also died in the rock slide. The screen goes blank and the stillness of the night returns.

There are still trees crashing in the distance, but I ignore the sounds of danger as I drift off into a deep sleep.

* * *

><p>"Madge, wake up! Please, wake up!" I hear Gale hiss at me.<p>

The cornucopia is warm and the bright light of day surrounds us. A smell of cooked meat fills my nostrils and then I see the look of pure dread on Gale's face. He pulls me to my feet, to the very edge of the cornucopia, and pushes me into the raging fire that surrounds us.

* * *

><p><strong>Also, I am so sorry that it took me two whole months to get this up! I am so sorry!<strong>

**Please review :) it would be totally awesome!**


	10. Chapter 10

**It was brought to my attention by a helpful member of Critics United that I need to do more with emotions in my writing. This is not too surprising, because I am very much like Sheldon Cooper from _Big_ _Bang_ _Theory_: while I am clearly a superior being, I suck when it comes to emotions in my writing. So buckle up, because I am about to get emotioal, despite how illogical emotions are. Spock is currently turning in his grave.**

**This was written on a German Computer, so please forgive any spelling and formatting errors.**

* * *

><p><strong>Complicated<strong>

Over. Under. Left. Right. That's what my life has always been. Katniss had been the closest thing in my life to an actual complication and even that relationship had been pretty straightforeward: we were friends and even if I made a move, nothing would ever come of it. Katniss and I were a lot alike in that sense: we always kept our emotions in check, never overthinking anything. Hell, the two of us could have gotten married and Katniss would act as if abdolutely nothing had changed. Even being as emotionally stable (or disconnected, Thom would argue) I would have changed. Katniss was a whole new level of being emotionlessly calm and collected. Though I have never been anywhere near her level, I always thought that I was somewhat close. But Madge... There is just something about her that can knock me off of my balance.

However, now is not the optimal time to have a "heart to heart" over this (whether it be with Madge or in my head), especially when it would be broadcast on national television. No, it's much better if I just don't think about it, like Haymitch might have slurred at some point. It's sad, but I almost wish that I could beg him for advice right now. It's hard to keep my emotions in check when Madge is around. There's just something about her that's so... Strong, but still kind of pure and innocent. I'd never really noticed until just before these stupid Games. Just like with Katniss. Besides, it's too late to do anything about those maybe almost feelings now. At least one of us is going to die in the next few days.

_If it comes down to the two of us, I decide, _I'll_make it quick. And then, like the moron I am, I look over at her sleeping face and know that, even if I did manage to kill her, I could never live with myself. I'd have to kill myself because it would be too horrible for her to die some awful death and know that I did nothing.___

I've never given the idea of a "higher power" of sorts being out there, but I decide that a quick prayer can't hurt at this point. _Look, I have no clue how this works, but if there is some sort of way to get me out of this, I would really appreciate it if you would act on that. I would really owe you one._

A crackling sound stirs me from my thoughts. I feel a sudden wave of heat wash over my body. Though it receeds slightly, the newly found heat is still present along with the almost sinister sounding cackling.

I am about to go investigate when I have an epiphony: it's fire.

_Shit._

* * *

><p><strong>Transition<strong>

It turns out that Madge is about as useful as a bullet to the head when she's woken up suddenly. She's staggaring around like a chicken with its head chopped off and the fire isn't exactly receding. If anything, it's chasing us like it has a mind of its own.

"It's like it's trying to catch us," I shout to Madge. A canon echos in the distance and I swear she rolls her eyes.

"The Game makers, Gale," she replies. I feel a bit stupid, bit now isn't the time for berating myself.

"Shut up, that's not helping!" I snap, but I don't even have to look at Madge to know that I've said the wrong thing. I can feel her scorching glare burning into my back almost as intensely as the radiation from the fire. I hope that I can think of a way out of here before she (or the fire) kills me.

"Is there a space or gap large enough for us to fit through?" Madge calls out as we gaze at the walls of flames closing in on us and the cornucopia.

"If there was, I don't think that we'd be here!" I reply.

Her eyes narrow, giving new meaning to the phrase "if looks could kill". A part of me thinks that she might actually be pissed off enough to do it, too. But instead, her intelligent blue eyes dart around the rapidly shrinking clearing, settling on the illuminated silhouette of the cornucopia.

"The cornucopia is made of metal, right?" she asks.

"You're right, it wont burn!" I shout as I pull her towards our new safe haven.

Almost as soon as we arrive, however, I cab see an obvious problem: neither of us is tall enough to reach the top of the cornucopia. It's at least a foot out of my reach, even when I jump, and Madge is no better.

"Gale, there's no use. Neither of us will ever be able to get up there," Madge gasps, as her fingers manage to miss the edge of the cornucopia during a third desperate attempt.

"Come on, Madge! There has to be something that we can do besides just stand here and wait to burn to death!" I am almost crying, at this point. There is something so horrible, so painful, almost, about knowing that you're going to die and not being able to do anything about it. I try not to think of mom and Rory and Vick and Prim and, oh, God, Posy and the way she would always swing herself up onto my shoulders...

It hits me then.

"Madge, get on my shoulders, okay? Then you might be able to reach the rim and pull yourself up," I instruct. As soon as I bend down, I can feel her weight. She's heavier than most Seam girls would be, but she still seems to have the underfed nature of most kids from Twelve so it's nowhere near as hard to lift her as I had anticipated. Even so, it still takes her a few tries to finally, firmly grasp the rim.

"Do you have it, Madge?" I yell.

"Yes!" her reply is strained and strangely squeaky, but there's no time for me to wonder if anything's wrong. I feel her weight leave my shoulders and I can hear the squeaking of her shoes as she scrambles to get up on top of the cornucopia.

"Gale, hand me my sleeping pad!" she screams.

"What? Why?" I ask, desperately trying to think of any good reason why Madge would need a sleeping pad right now.

"Just give it to me, Gale!" she screams, and so I comply.

An edge of the pad hangs down as Madge pulls me up. She's bigger and slightly stronger than Katniss was, so she can actually manage. It's one of the advantage of always having more than enough to eat.

"Thanks," I gasp as soon as I catch my breath.

"Any time," she replies. I quickly take in her appearence an am shocked. There are more holes in her shirt than in my oldest, rattiest minning uniform. The ends of her hair are singed as are her sleeves and, from what I can see through the holes in her clothes, her body. I catch a glimpse of her hands and they are both bright red.

"Oh my god, Madge, what happened?" I ask.

"Turns out that metal can get really hot when it's surrounded by fire," she whispers, trying to smile through her pain. She just looks crazy.

"Do you know anything about burns?" I ask, hoping that she can instruct me on how best to treat her.

"Only that it's pretty easy to die from them," she replies, sighing as she cautiously lies down on the pad. I help lower her head to the pad and grab my full bottle of water. The mud's not going anywhere so there's no harm in using the water to clean out her wounds, despite the fact that, unless we get some medicine, she's for sure a goner.

"Deep breaths, Madge. This will probably sting a little," I coach her, knowing from experience that this will actually sting a lot. Burn wounds are, by far, the worst. They hurt and scar and blister and feel so hot, no matter how much ice or snow or water one puts on them. And then there's the incredibly high risk of infection.

"Mmmmmm," Madge moans.

"You'll be okay, Madge," I soothe. I'm starting to feel light headed now. Dealing with wounds and others being in pain has never come easily to me.

"Do you think we have enough sponserers?" she whispers, her voice hoarse and strained from her intense pain and the smoke billowing around us.

"Come on, Madge, what do you think? My best friend almost won last year and we both got amazing scores in training. We'll be fine," my voice sounds so ridiculous that Madge seems to be on the verge of laughter. My fake smile probably makes me look completely nuts.

"You're really horrible at this, Gale," she whispers softly. She shuts her eyes gently.

"No, Madge, you are going to be fine. We'll get you medicine and you will be fine," I plead. I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince at this point: me or her.

"Seriously, Gale, your delusions are pretty frightening. This is the Hunger Games. I was going to die anyways, whatever you end up doing," she tries to comfort me, which is rather ironic seeing as she's the one who's dying.

"Come on, Madge, could you just shut up and at least try to live?" I plead. I can feel the tears starting to form behind my gray Seam eyes and her dark blue ones already seem to be wet with them.

"I'm going to die and you're telling me to shut up? That's not very nice, you know. Maybe I was right thinking that you were a jerk for all of those years," she tries to joke. It's starting to get annoying now. I know that we have to have somewhat decent sponsors, especially after District Twelve's sucess last year and our great training scores.

As if Haymitch can hear my angry and desperate thoughts, a parachute appears out of nowhere, drifting lazily through the billowing smoke to rest on the cornucopia just inches from Madge's head.

I lunge for it like a starving beggar would lunge for a loaf of bread. My fingers shake violently as I unwrap a large bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide and a tube of pus yellow medicine. The medicine smells horrible, like the "wash" bucket outside of the east entrance to the mines, but the moment I press a glob of it onto a cleaned burn on Madge's stomach, she sighs in relief.

"That feels so much better, Gale," she sighs. Already, I can see faint traces of a healthy pink returning to her cheeks and diminishing the gray green color they had turned from the extreme pain she had been in.

"Don't worry, we have plenty left," I breath in relief. We might just find a way to get through this alive.

* * *

><p><strong>Transition<strong>

I roll up the singed remains of her dark green shirt. The Hunger Games are not a place for modesty and we both know it, but I take care to keep... certain areas of her chest as covered as I can. If she wins, I'm sure that she'll be greatful. I do my very best to thoroughly inspect all of the burns and clean them with water and the Hydrogen Peroxide as best I can, but healing has never been my forte and I have to actively prevent myself from throwing up sometimes. At some point, Madge becomes too exausted to stay awake, even with the sting of the Hydrogen Peroxide, and her eyes flutter shut. Her mouth is still twisted into a tight grimace of pain, though.

As I work, I hear the canons sound again and the anthen plays at some point, but the most information I can retain is that three tributes die and none of them were very big threats. The fire starts to recede until in is nothing but a faint glow on the edge of the eastern horizon. I realize that it is the sun and I have worked throughout the night. I gently rouse Madge.

"Is everything okay, Gale?" she asks.

In the faintly strengthening light, I can see the remains of her burns. The skin is still pink, but it looks like new skin; like the skin of a baby, almost. It wont be strong and will be very open to infection, but it's better than the burned ruined skin that she could have.

"It's getting light out and the two of us will be sitting ducks up here in the light. We ought to get down into what's left of the forest," I explain. Madge nods, trying to be as cooperative as she can through her obvious pain and discomfort.

"How much of the forest do you think that the fire damaged? Do you even think that there will be anything left?" Madge croaks, her voice almost as hoarse as mine from all of the smoke.

"I have no idea. I guess we'll find out when we get down from here," I reply, squinting out into the darkness in a vain attempt to see.

In the dim light from the sun just barely peeking over the horizon, I can make out that the once flat, snow covered ground now seems to be uneven and bumpy. It's a bit unnerving for the arena to become so different so rapidly, but I force myself to leap off of the golden rim of the cornucopia.

My feet hit the ground first and I sway violently. I thrust my arms out in a desperate attempt to steady myself, finally balancing off the side of the cornucopia. It's still warm from the fire that nearly consumed us.

Madge slides down next to me and grasps my upper arms as she struggles and wobbles to catch her balance. Eventually, I can feel the pressure of her small, delicate hands leave my arms. I fight the desire to grab her hands and hold her so tightly that she can't breath. I settle, instead, for grabbing her pack and slinging it over my shoulders. She makes a few sounds of protests, but she knows full and well that she wont be much good carrying anything for a while. Hell , the girl can barely stand!

"Got a game plan?" she asks.

"Stay alive," I groan as the sun finally breaches the horizon, flooding our surroundings with light.

They are strikingly reminiscent of a previous Hunger Games from years and years and years ago. It might have been from one of the years when those tall, blonde siblings from District One were victors. In fact, I'm almost sure it was from one of their years beacause I remember a lot of "fire and ice" themed jokes from Claudius Templesmith regarding the fact that the previous year's arena had only ice. The arena the next year- and now- is the complete opposite. One would give anything for some ice in here.

The precise word feels strang and foreign on my tounge.

"Desert," I whisper.

* * *

><p><strong>My sincere apologies for such a short chapter. The next one will be up wenever I have time. Most of the story is completed or at least planned at this point, so yay!<strong>

**Also, please check out the poll on my profile! It's about my next project!**


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